


City Lights

by lattecup



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptive Sex, Dry Humping, F/M, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Spiderman Jimin, college life is college, iron man tae, jimin and tae are like total best buds in this, no beta we die like men, plot heavy, spiderman universe, vanilla sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lattecup/pseuds/lattecup
Summary: It’s difficult for Jimin to be Jimin and Spider-man, and your friendship with him grows distant because he’s not around anymore. You just want your best friend back.





	City Lights

**Author's Note:**

> ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ 
> 
> When this symbol comes up, then the POV changes between the reader and Jimin.

Being Spider-Man is hard. Actually, no, that’s easy. Being Park Jimin is hard.  
  
From the age of fifteen, he’s had a hard time finding a balance between his two worlds. He somehow managed to stay at the top of his class all through high school, only running on a few hours of sleep, daily. Even now, in his last year of university, that balance no longer exists. He doesn’t know if he stopped caring about school, or if the crimes and bad guys have truly gotten more intense. Not a day goes by that he’s fully rested.  
  
Sometimes, he wishes he was never Spider-Man, but most times, that’s all he wants to be.  
  
“Jimin, are you even paying attention?” you ask, your voice coming through the speakers of his laptop.  
  
“Yeah, yeah —“ he tries to fake it, flipping to page one hundred something in his chemistry book. Truth be told, even if he had been paying attention, he still wouldn’t know what you were talking about.  
  
“C’mon,” you whine at the camera, shoving your face into your textbook. “It’s already getting late, and we have a test on Tuesday.”  
  
“I know, I know, please just a little longer,” Jimin begs, because you’ve been helping him out a lot the impromptu lessons you give him. And maybe, just maybe, he likes spending as much time with you as possible, having his _job_ certainly does keep him from spending time with you.  
  
“Maybe,” you start, shutting your textbook and shoving it to the side and it makes Jimin groan. “_Maybe_, you should attend class for once. You already missed — what? — like four classes now?”  
  
He sighs because you’re absolutely not wrong. He’s missed so many classes for several of his courses, he definitely won’t be getting any perfect attendance awards in the near future. He stares at his chemistry book, and all the words and pictures and models on the page are not making any sort of sense; he’s doomed. He can make promises about how he’ll be a better student, how he’ll attend class, and pass his tests, but he can’t, he doesn’t know when Spider-Man will be called into duty.  
  
“Do you like even want to graduate?” you nag him, and he rolls his eyes at you because you sound like his mother. “How many classes have you failed —“  
  
“_Withdrawn_,” Jimin corrects you, and of course he has to correct you because the phrase failed classes hurts his pride. _‘Whatever helps you sleep at night — how many?’_ you ask him again. “Only three, okay? H-How about you, huh? Didn’t you fail a _whole_ semester?”  
  
You sigh at him, completely disapprovingly and Jimin regrets saying that because he knows it wasn’t your fault for what happened that semester. “It was a medical withdraw, so, no I didn’t fail. I had a shattered collarbone and like five broken ribs and was in the hospital for six weeks.” You mumble softly, _‘At least I got to met Doctor Min, I heard he doesn’t work at the hospital anymore.’_  
  
_Right_, of course, he remembers that he beat himself up for what happened to you because it was all essentially his fault.  
  
It was all a coincidence, really. You asked him to go out for the night, a little dinner just the two of you for a _midterms being over _celebration, but he couldn’t, no, he needed to do patrol. And even if he did go with you, he would feel bad if he would’ve had to leave you in the middle of dinner because some bozo decided to rob a convenient store; he couldn’t do that to you. You went without him, and he was in a car chase, on the same block you happened to be in a taxi. He stopped the car just as it nicked the side of the taxi you were in, and your taxi driver swerved a little too hard and swerved out of control. Jimin tried to stop it before it hit a light post but he couldn’t, and he rushed over to the taxi.  
  
His stomach sank when he pulled you out, and he yelled at the bystanders to call an ambulance. _‘Now, NOW!’_ he yelled and he admits now that he was frantic then because he did that to you. He caused your wreck, he put you in danger and he didn’t even have the stomach to tell you it was him.  
  
“If it weren’t for Spider-Man,” you start, before cutting yourself off. Jimin assumes you don’t like to think of the possibility of what could have happened just as much as him.  
  
“He could’ve done a better job at saving you,” he mutters angrily under his breath.  
  
Yeah, _Spider-Man_ could have done a better job at saving you, but he didn’t, he failed, he failed you and Jimin hates Spider-Man for that, he hates himself for that. Sure, he knows he can’t save everyone, but _you_? He should save you every single time, no matter what the danger may be. You’re his best friend, and he can’t afford to lose you.  
  
“Hey, hey! Don’t criticize him,” you bark. Oh, he can criticize him, himself, whatever. “Anyways, as I said, it’s getting late. You should get some rest, okay? You’ve been sleeping in class too much.”  
  
“W-Wait, wait. Can we set up a study session, uh, together?” he suggests. And you stare at the camera angrily. “C’mon, please, I need to catch up and you know more about this stuff than me.”  
  
“I’m flattered you think I know anything about chemistry,” you scoff. “— but last time you set up a study session with me, you totally flaked out and I ended up studying alone.”  
  
Yup, that happened, and he apologized a million times for doing it, he even bought you coffee for an entire month, which cut a huge hole into his finances. But then again, this wasn’t the first time he flaked out, it was a common thing for him to do that. If the thought counts, he does feel so immensely bad and he wishes he could have a day where he doesn’t have to worry about anything, that he can have the whole day to spend with you with no sort of interruption.  
  
“Please, please, I’ll make it this time,” he begs.  
  
You sigh heavily and he knows you’re just so tired otherwise you wouldn’t say, “Fine, fine. How about Saturday? We can meet at the library.” _‘What? Library? Don’t be lame we both have apartments with no roommates —‘_ “You tend to _charm_ your way out of doing anything school related, whether it’s convincing me to watch a movie, eating three boxes of pizza, or you just passing out. If we’re at the library, you, at least can’t do two of those three things.”  
  
He agrees reluctantly because you have a point, like always. You yawn at the camera, laying back onto your pillows and —  
  
“Seriously, Jimin, get some rest,” you tell him one last time. You say your goodnights and the call ends.  
  
Once again, Jimin is left in his room, alone, not knowing anything about chemistry. Being Park Jimin is way harder than he thought, he really needs to put the effort in school again. His constant skipping of lectures have certainly earned him deducted points on his grade, and on top of really not understanding the material, he’s screwed. School’s important, school’s important, but if there’s an emergency, is he suppose to just ignore it? Does he have the stomach to ignore an emergency? What if something bad happens, and he just decided not to go? How could he live with himself like that?  
  
Jimin sighs, tossing his chemistry book to the side of his bed. Rest, you told him but he can’t. Like routine, he slips on his suit, mask over his face and he jumps out his window. His in-ear communications went off and —  
  
“Joining the party a little late, aren’t you?” his voice comes through, and there’s that teasing tone dripping in his voice that Jimin can’t help but groan loudly at.  
  
“I was studyin’,” he tells him and damn it, he should have just lied to Taehyung because his laugh bellows out into his ear and already Jimin wants to just choke-hold him through that iron suit. _‘Did you just say studying?’_ “Some’uv us are still in school and not fuckin’ billionaires.”  
  
“No no no,” Taehyung says, through laughs. “No, you’re right, stay in school, it’s important. And I also pay you, so don’t act like a broke college kid, because you’re not anymore.”  
  
God, Jimin should’ve just stayed and studied in his bed.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
The morning is so exhausting, and you’re not even sure if you got enough sleep for your biochem lab, it’s way too early. You look over at the empty seat next to you, where Jimin _should_ be and it’s almost eight, and he’s still not here. You sigh, eyes rolling because how typical of him to skip this class, and you even told him not to take this class with you. _‘No, no, I want to have more classes with you,’_ and now you’re starting to think that maybe he said that so you could just teach him whatever he missed.  
  
You’re disappointed because it’s kind of hard to spend time with him when he’s not even here, and you wish he could tell you what’s going on with him. You want to help him, if he’s having trouble, you want to be there for him. You understand that chem majors are always in a constant state of stress, but you were hoping that if he was stressed, he could look to you for some comfort. And if he’s having trouble sleeping, you could just give him some melatonin so he could actually sleep through the night.  
  
With not a second to spare, Jimin races into the class, stumbling over chairs with the strap of his backpack haphazardly over his shoulder. He falls into the seat next to you, and the professor can’t even begin to say anything to him. You look over at him, about to scold and nag —  
  
He’s covered in sweat, black hair stuck to his temples and a growing bruise on his cheekbone. His shirt is a wrinkled mess, and he just brushes his hand through his drenched hair. You see the bruises along his knuckles. What’s happened to him, did he get into a fight? Clearly, something happened and you can’t even frantically ask him what’s happened because the lab has already started. What the hell has happened to him?  
  
“Jimin?” you whisper, and you hope it’s soft enough for the professor not to stop the explanation of the lab but loud enough to hear. Jimin immediately turns his head over to you and looks at you like he’s confused as to why you’re calling to him. “Are you — how did you — what happened?”  
  
He shakes his head at you and just mutters that he was _just_ running late. Late? Doing what? Fighting some guys on the side of the street? Or did he get punched so hard that it just bugged his memory? You don’t think you can just let this go, but already the professor is clearing his throat at you two.  
  
Just as you’re gathering the materials, and slipping on the lab goggles, you can’t help but just stare at Jimin. You blink at him blankly because wait, you were so sure he had a growing bruise on his cheek, but now it’s like it was never there? It’s definitely more subtle than it was when he first walked in but it’s something that wasn’t there when you were video calling him last night. His knuckles are still badly bruised so it wasn’t your imagination, _right_?  
  
“Jimin,” you say more firmly, once he starts looking over the lab report because you need to get to the bottom of this. “Why are you — how — what the hell happened to you? Did you get jumped?”  
  
“_Jumped?_” he repeats you a little bit shocked that you would ask him. Does he really not know the state he’s in? Or was it? “No, why would you ask that?” You motion to his face, to his hands,_ ‘you have — you’re —‘_ and in a panic, he takes out his phone and his phone screen is shattered. “Shit! You can see it? Damn it, I thought it would be gone — uhhh, I mean, I-I tried to, uh, cover it up.”  
  
Did he actually get jumped? Is he part of some gang, and is that why he doesn’t come to school? Your heart races in your chest and he doesn’t even seem to be all that concerned. So is he hiding something from you? And you don’t know why you feel a knot in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly just feel so much distance between you two. Can he not trust you?  
  
And before long, the three hours of lab go by fast and you didn’t even get the chance to pry him further because his bruises are gone. It’s like you blink and they’re gone, his face is fine, his knuckles aren’t purple anymore. Maybe the bruises weren’t that bad and that’s how they healed so quickly, but that still doesn’t change the fact that he still had them. His phone is shattered which it wasn’t the other day that you saw him. Just as you’re packing up the equipment, you try to reach out to him —  
  
“We’re still on for tomorrow, right?” Jimin asks you, and his voices comes out so rushed and breathy. Just as you nod your head, he pulls you into his chest and says, “Great! Great! I’ll call you tonight, okay?”  
  
And he leaves you, with a lot more questions and nothing answered.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
“I needa have a talk wit’cha,” Jimin growls into his comm, angrily. You noticed his bruises, something that has never happened. Honestly, what is he suppose to tell you, _‘Yeah Y/N, I’m Spider-Man,’_ yeah you’re going to laugh at him. Even worse now, you’re worried about him, he could see it in your face and he wishes you wouldn’t worry about him. “I thought I told ya —“  
  
“Mister Park,” Taehyung cuts him off immediately, voice barely authoritative. “I don’t know what kind of schedule you have, but some of us have work,” and Jimin rolls his eyes behind the lenses of his mask. “Unless it is an emergency —“  
  
“Yes! It’s an emergency!” Jimin yells back, as he swings to the roof of a building. “I thought I told ya my suit needed an armor upgrade!”  
  
Clearly, his armor needed it, it was starting to deteriorate and if he was forming bruises while wearing the suit something was wrong. He needs every little piece of protection he can. Not because he necessarily cares about the bruises and cuts, in fact, he likes it, he feels proud when he can see battle scars, but if you see them, if _anyone_ sees them, then that’s where the problem is.  
  
“I give you money every week, don’t I?” Taehyung jabs at him. Jimin knows not to disturb him during the daytime, but in all honesty, Taehyung has done it numerous times to him. “You should have enough money to upgrade it with the money I give you, right? Which means you don’t need more of Stark Industries’ money, _right?_” Jimin tries to cut in through Taehyung’s loud voice, “Now! I’m a busy man, Mister Park.”  
  
And Taehyung cuts himself off when he hangs up the call, and Jimin sighs, “I hate ‘im.”  
  
He shoots a web to the next building, and his feet are no longer on the comforting edge of the building. The wind somehow feels more calming than he originally thought and he’s happy that it’s not humid. He remembers to leave a tracker in his bag that he webbed up on the side of a building, so he doesn’t have to buy another one for the millionth time. The sun isn’t shining too bright today, which means his eyes can rest. Fuck, that means his lenses need a little bit of tweaking as well. He has too many things to do and to get done, and school is honestly the least of his worries right now.  
  
His comm rings in his ear, he answers it without realizing who it is —  
  
“Jimin,” your voice comes through, and fuck, of course, it’s you. He didn’t even get enough time to think of some excuse, one that he knows you’ll buy. Honestly, he feels bad for lying, he’s been truthful to you about everything except for this. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to you? Like why you had bruises on you, and why your phone is shattered to shit?”  
  
“So, ya — you noticed?” he stutters. And he can’t stop the grunt he does when he flings his body up into the air to swing to another building. He hears you about to ask him what he’s doing but, “Listen it was just a small scuffle with a few jerks outside my apartment, okay? No big deal! But hey, listen, I’m running late, I’ll call you tonight!”  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
Needless to say that the conversation with him didn’t provide you with anything new. Maybe you should drop it to be honest because you know you’re not going to get anything out of him. He said it was a small scuffle and he’s fine, right? He didn’t look too beat up so you should be thankful that nothing worse happened to him. You didn’t want to pry because he didn’t call you, and you assumed he was just tired. You didn’t want to interrupt him if he was actually sleeping.  
  
At least it’s Saturday and you can finally see him and hopefully help him catch up, but you’re not that confident in your knowledge in your own major. You text him to meet you at the library at two, and he replies saying, ‘okay,’ so he definitely knows.  
  
You get to the library a little early, and you’re unpacking your things onto the table. You try to gather your thoughts and there’s this growing nervousness inside your chest. You don’t know what this nervousness started to spring up suddenly. Maybe because you can finally spend time with Jimin, alone and in person, not just a video call. It feels like it used to, that you’re just a couple of college kids struggling to survive classes, and you’re in this _together_. It feels like it should.  
  
But that never comes, he doesn’t show up and you try and message him and call him but your calls are going to voicemail and your messages aren’t even being read. You’re left to study on your own for several hours, alone, _again_. You want to say you won’t forgive him this time, but you know you will and you don’t know where this soft spot for him came from.  
  
It’s late already and your contacts are drying up in your eyes. You half contemplate passing out on the couches on the fifth floor but you really don’t want to wake up with a sore neck. So you pack up your things into your backpack. You at least finished your lab reports, finished the analysis, and even finished the review for the test on Tuesday, and it’s only ten at night. You contemplate one more time whether you should actually leave the library, it’s late and it’s a bit of a walk to your apartment, especially at this time. But you really, really don’t want sleep at on a hard couch.  
  
You can’t believe he left you hanging again but it sadly doesn’t really surprise you. What could have possibly happened, and you text him again but still no answer and at this point, you give up. You might as well enjoy the _long_ walk to your apartment and try to _not_ think about how Jimin stood you up — for a study session, of course. But he even set it up himself, so he should have been free?  
  
“Excuse me, Miss,” a voice says from, where? Above you? And you see rich colors of red and blue dulled down in the shadows and your heart flips in your chest. “It’s a lil late for ya to be walkin’ alone.”  
  
You honestly don’t know what you’re feeling, you feel this flush spread and you know you’re staring at the masked man before you so stupidly but you really can’t think of anything as you stare at the lenses. You’re not even conscious when your phone slips passed your fingers until _thwip_ sounds in your ear and —  
  
“Woah!” he exclaims, bringing the phone up to him as he jumps down to the concrete sidewalk with a soft thud. And he’s really here, in front of you, with the famous rich red and blue suit, masked from head to toe, he really is in front of you. Your phone lands completely safe in his hands. “Wouldn’t want yer phone broken, yeah?”  
  
And you can just hear the smile behind his mask. _He’s_ here, in front of you, talking to you, in the flesh. You never in your life thought you’d be face to face with the hero of the city. You pray that you’re not sleeping at the library and you’re so close to slapping yourself, to pinching your arm. You can’t even say anything, and you feel your lip quiver and your body shake as he walks up to you.  
  
He’s definitely more muscular than you remember, but then again, the time you did see him this close, you were in and out of consciousness. The definition of his muscles notable through whatever material his suit is made out of. He’s not as tall as you imagined, average maybe, taller than you that’s for sure. HIs posture is quite straight though, so he looks taller than he is and —  
  
“Hello?” he says, waving his red-covered

hand in front of you and you catch a glimpse of his web shooters strapped to his wrists. Everything’s so new to you — “You in there, Miss?”  
  
“Yeah — yeah, yes!” you jump, senses all coming back to you and holy fuck. No, you can’t embarrass yourself in front of Spider-Man, you just can’t do that to yourself, or to him. You’re sure he gets a lot of people screaming — in a not dangerous context. You take your phone from him, “Sorry, uhm, sorry, I just — you scared me is all.”  
  
“Ahhh,” Spider-Man nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Right, right. Ya don’t really expect a guy in skin-tight suit comin’ up on ya.”  
  
You chuckle at what he said, and you’re sure it sounds shaky, you’re trying to come down from the adrenaline, “Yeah, the spider really doesn’t help,” and you shiver slightly pointing at the spider symbol on his chest, “They kinda freak me out.”  
  
“What?” he shouts, the lenses of his mask going wide, “Are you kiddin’ me? Oh, Miss, I’m hurt.” and he holds his chest, both hands clasping over his heart.  
  
Did you really just say that _spiders_ freak you out to _Spider-Man?_ You actually want to disappear, you want to melt into a puddle. Now, you actually wish that you were actually sleeping in the library. And then he bursts into a laugh, and something about his laugh makes it seem more human, more _familiar_. It’s a sound that puts you at ease and you’re glad that he can take some form of jokes, no matter how lame the joke is.  
  
“Lemme take ya home,” he says once his laughing subsides. _‘Oh no no, I don’t live too far away so it’s not a big deal,’_ you try and tell him but — “It’s late, and I can’t just let’cha walk alone. On top of bein’ yer friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, I’m also a gentleman.”  
  
And he holds an arm out towards you expectantly and you don’t even know why your heart can’t just control itself in your chest. It’s so loud in your ears and you don’t even know what to do or what to even — _‘promise I don’t bite.’ _You laugh but still, you’re just so nervous and you try to tell him again that it’s not that far, you can manage, and he tells you it’s nonsense.  
  
You approach him, fiddling with the strap of your backpack and you’re not sure what exactly he wants you to do. He’s so close to you, and you might not be able to see his eyes beneath the mask but you can still feel them watching your every move. You feel so small next to him —  
  
“C’mon, grab onto me,” his voice comes through and you look at him in question. He motions his arms to his neck and you don’t know why you just feel warm. And you’re moving closer and closer to him, “Arms, around my neck, hold on tight, ‘kay?”  
  
Now you are definitely closer than you’ve ever been to him and this was definitely not how you expected your night to end. And you wrap your arms around his neck — as he said — but you know you’re being more awkward than you need to be. He feels like a human, which you expected that, realistically of course, but actually touching him makes him feel more human. He’s soft, well not soft, you can feel the firmness of his muscles underneath his suit but he’s soft, like a _human.  
_  
“Like this?” you ask, nervously and _‘atta girl, just like that.’_  
  
And his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you a little closer to him, and you swear to god, you’re not even breathing anymore. “You gotta tell me where to go.” You snap back into your senses because of course, he’s not going to know where you live. You tell him where and you hear him breathe softly, “Hold on tight, remember?”  
  
You don’t have time to answer him, because you’re suddenly in the air and adrenaline rushes to your chest. Passed the roaring wind in your ears, you hear a soft chuckle from him, probably because of the squeak you made when he swung off. You make the mistake of looking down to see nothing but the streets beneath you, and you’re so much higher than you thought, and you feel your stomach sinks.  
  
And it lasts such a short time because you really weren’t too far away from your apartments. He sets you down gently on the roof of your building. You realize you haven’t been breathing, and you struggle to catch your breath and your hands shake at your sides. He lands next to you, adjusting his web shooters and you somehow get this sense that he’s proud of himself, or maybe that he’s satisfied with himself. He’s so much more animated than you expected. Honestly, you expected a serious superhero but he’s not that, he’s just more human, more like an average person and that idea makes your heart thump so loudly in your chest.  
  
You need to say something, you want to say something, and you blurt out, “Th-Thank you!”  
  
Spider-Man throws a thumbs up your way, “Ahh, it’s no trouble at all,” and there it is, you can hear the smile in his voice.  
  
He has this underlying roughness in his voice that you can’t really place your finger on it, and there’s a slight drawl in his words. It’s so _him,_ even though, you really don’t know much about Spider-Man but really who does. He’s a mystery and you’re so fascinated and intrigued and you wish you could know more about him. Realistically, you know you _can’t, _that was the point of him wearing a mask, and you’re sure he’s a busy man on a twenty-four-hour schedule, he never rests.  
  
You want to say more to him, and you suddenly feel a little silly because he doesn’t remember you, of course, he wouldn’t, he saves people daily. But you can’t stop yourself from saying, “Thank you for — uhhh, oh. You might not remember me,” and he turns to you again, his full attention on you. You feel the bore of his eyes on you and you feel so small again, you stutter, “Uh, it-it was months ago, but there was an accident —“  
  
“I remember you,” he cuts you off, and his voice sounds sad, disappointed even. You should be surprised that he actually remembers you but you can’t because of the tone of his voice, he sounds hurt almost. “Look, it was my fault for what happened to ya, I caused yer crash,” and you’re stammering over saying _‘no,’_ a million times. “I’m sorry, really I am.”  
  
His shoulders look deflated, slumped down and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. You’re stunned, at a loss for words because you never in a million years expected he’d remember you. You, however, never blamed him, even now, you don’t blame him for the accident, he saved you. It would have been so much worse without him and you shiver at the thought. You try and say something to him, to give him a little ease and peace but —  
  
“What’s yer name?” he asks, and _‘Y/N,’_ you tell him. “I’ll see ya ‘round.”  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
“You looked awfully close to that girl,” Taehyung’s voice comes in through his command JImin just gives an idle, _‘mhmm.’  
_  
His heart is lodged in his throat if he’s being perfectly honest. He doesn’t know what came over him to come to see you. He felt bad that he couldn’t study with you, he feels more than bad, and he doesn’t know why he feels the need to make up for it even more now. Maybe because this was the ten millionth time he had done it to you. But he just needed to see you, and he did.  
  
God, why can’t his heart calm down? It must have been the adrenaline to talk to you as Spider-Man, and not as Jimin. Maybe it was the fact that you could have figured out who he was by his voice, but somehow you didn’t. Or the fact that he got to actually talk to you, see you and talk to you, knowing you don’t know it’s him under the mask. All he wanted was to take off his mask, and tell you everything, explain to you this is the reason why he can’t be — why he can’t —  
  
God, what the fuck are his thoughts right now? He really can’t think straight, seeing you made his thoughts a jumble. His heart is so loud in his ears and it isn’t helping him concentrate. He doesn’t even know if he’s breathing correctly. How did you manage to screw up his thoughts, his everything? All he can think about is you now, and he swings away from your building because he has to keep himself from going back to you.  
  
“Is she your girl?” Taehyung asks, and _‘why do you wanna know?’_ Jimin bites back — “Hey, hey we’re friends right? Iron Man and Spider-Man fighting together, right?”  
  
“More like work associates,” Jimin corrects him and Taehyung huffs loudly in his ear, _‘does she know?’_ “That I’m Spider-Man? Absolutely fuckin’ not.”  
  
“You know, you can tell her, right? Bad things won’t happen to her if she knows, nothing will hurt her. I know you won’t allow it, and I’ll do my best to keep her safe, if you ask,” Taehyung suggests.  
  
Jimin can’t think about the possibility of anything happening to you because of him because he’s Spider-Man. You not knowing might not hurt you but you being associated with him will. If anyone finds out who _he_ is, anyone close to him will be a target, he can’t let you be a target. He would never be able to forgive himself if something happens to you. And what if he can’t protect you, what if he’s not as good as he thinks he is, what if he is actually expendable?  
  
“I can’t risk that,” is all Jimin says, because he doesn’t want to say his thoughts aloud for fear of his nightmares coming true.  
  
“I assume she’s the girl you always talk about, yeah?” Taehyung questions. Jimin just gives an idle, _‘mhmm,’_ just as he swings to the top of another building. “Maybe if you tell her, that’ll explain to her why you’re never around and why you ditch her all the time and why you can’t —“  
  
“Okay! Okay!” Jimin shouts loudly, cutting him off, “I get it, I get it. I dunno, okay? I dunno if I can tell her.”  
  
Taehyung hums softly, before he says, “Here’s what you say —“ Jimin groans loudly, _‘oh for fuck’s sake.’_ “You just go up to her and say ‘Y/N, I’m Spider-Man.’ It’s that easy, right, FRIDAY?” and he hears the AI answer Taehyung through his comm, trying to reason with him a little bit.  
  
It’s a long night, a long day with him and he knows he owes you some sort of explanation, but the most obvious one is too much for him, he can’t do that. Maybe, one day, in the distant future, he might consider possibly telling you but just not now. It’s too unsafe, it’s always been unsafe, and maybe it always will, and it’s better, for his sanity, that you live in ignorance. He pulls out his phone as he’s perched up on the edge of a roof, he knows it won’t solve anything but _maybe_ it’s worth something right?  
  
**[11:11 p.m.] _Chim Chim:_** _ hey sorry I couldn’t make it, something came up!  
_ **[11:11 p.m.] _Chim Chim: _** _I’ll make up for it!  
_  
What a lame excuse, completely and totally lame excuse. In reality, Jimin’s never been good with his words, especially considering his job now; and with you, that fact multiplies by a thousand, he just doesn’t even know how to function around you. He just can’t let himself feel too much for you, to think about you too much, but you are literally always on his mind and it’s making him spiral.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
You don’t really even remember falling asleep. You remember opening the door to your apartment and just replaying the memory that you had just spoken to Spider-Man. You had set your head on your pillow and then you woke up. That’s it, you open your eyes and you had not rested at all, or maybe you did, but you really don’t even remember falling asleep. And you glance at your phone to see the time —  
  
**[11:11 p.m.] _Chim Chim:_** _ hey sorry I couldn’t make it, something came up!  
_ **[11:11 p.m.] _Chim Chim:_** _ I’ll make up for it!  
_  
Anger and frustration rush over you again. You know that you have every right to be mad, he planned to meet with you and he didn’t even show up or message you until _after_ you got home. You’re hurt, your chest feels so heavy and you want desperately to be mad at him so he knows that this isn’t okay, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad at him. You know yourself, you know you’ll let this slide like you always do.  
  
Maybe if you see him, maybe then you can actually be mad at him. Today is Sunday, and you know he doesn’t have anything on his schedule. And you don’t even realize you’re walking over to his building, and you thank the skies that he’s within walking distance of you. You feel this dread in your stomach because you know he won’t give you an answer that will put you at easy or somehow you’ll feel bad that he’ll most likely look tired. Or maybe, he’s been seeing someone and he doesn’t want you to find out. No, no, you don’t want to think about that if you’re being honest with yourself.  
  
And his door is right in front of you, apartment 3B, and you don’t know why you’re so nervous to talk to him. You should have just called him, or at least messaged him letting him know that you were coming over. Then you think about it more, and he didn’t even give you that luxury so you shouldn’t give him any luxury either. You knock on his door a little too softly, and you hear him ruffling around his apartment and then everything stops. You knock harder on his door and then the frantic scrambling right after and then the locks and —  
  
“H-Hey, hey, Y/N,” Jimin greets you, black hair a complete mess and his clothes are disheveled. “What-what are you doing here?”  
  
You sigh, he doesn’t know that it bothers, or rather, that you’re bothered with him. “I just —“ and you can’t think of anything. Are you suppose to say that you came to be mad at him, to get answers or to make sure he’s okay?  
  
“Come in, come in,” he tells you, opening the door up more for you to walk in.  
  
His apartment is more neat and clean than you originally thought, like he just cleaned or something or that he’s never even set foot in this apartment. Your heart beats unbearably fast in your chest and you just can’t confront him about anything now that you are here, with him. Your hands shake at your sides. You really need to say something because you’ve been quiet for one too many minutes.  
  
“Look, I’m really sorry,” Jimin starts, voice low and apologetic, and it crushes your chest more. And you get this sense of deja vu because it feels like you’ve already heard him say that already, you definitely have but it’s so fresh in your memory. “I had to — something just came up —“  
  
“And you couldn’t even message me to let me know?” you jab at him. You see his shoulders deflate in defeat, sighing with such a heavy feeling.  
  
“I know, Y/N, I know, and I feel so — I just — let me make it up to you,” Jimin stutters through his sentence.  
  
You want him to stop talking, you really just should have messaged him and left it at that. You should have left him a strongly worded message because now, hearing his voice, you can feel yourself slipping and you know you aren’t mad at him anymore, you’re just so frustrated and sad.  
  
“How about next time you just don’t my plans with me, you idiot,” you hiss. Why can’t you say more to him, why can’t you just yell at him more? _‘I promise I’ll make it up to you,’ _he says and you’re just so tired of that sentence so you just shake your head. “No, just don’t do it to me again, promise?”  
  
You feel his arms around you and your face pressed into his chest and there’s that feeling again, you’ve done this before. You’ve hugged Jimin before, sure, but it seems like you did this yesterday. He’s mumbling how sorry he is. No, you can’t be mad at him anymore, in fact, you feel the opposite, or you don’t, you can’t even make sense of what you’re feeling.  
  
“It’s okay, Jimin,” you give in, and it’s only then that you remember exactly what happened to you and the memory is enough to jump in his arms. “Oh! I have something to tell you.” And Jimin pulls away from you, and all of his attention is on you, his eyes on you, and he asks you what happened. His eyebrow arches up as he watches you and you suddenly feel small, why do you feel so small. “Last night, when I was coming home because you left alone,” you jab just one more time, and _‘right, right.’_ “Damn it, you’re not gonna believe me. I met Spider-Man.”  


“Oh? Really now?” and his voice gets significantly lower than normal and it almost sounds teasing._ ‘I told you you wouldn’t believe me!’ _you shout, trying to hide your face away from him, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks. “No, no, c’mon tell me.”  
  
And there’s this wickedness in his smile and he’s making you feel like a child for what happened. Essentially, it’s all his fault for you meeting Spider-Man, and you tell him that. Though, in reality, you can’t really fault him because the experience wasn’t bad. You tell Jimin that you finally had a chance to thank him for saving you, and he rolls his eyes at you. _‘Hey, he did save me okay?’_ you try and reason and Jimin looks disgusted that you’re trying to defend him.  
  
“You know what really threw me off about him, though?” you say, more to yourself and you really don’t even realize that you said anything out loud until Jimin asks, _‘what’s that?’_ “He remembered me.”  
  
“Of course he remembers you, I mean, he should. He didn’t even do a good job at doing his job,” Jimin hisses angrily.  
  
This point you question why he’s so defensive, why he’s more angry about what happened to you than you are. You’re just thankful to still be here, that the accident wasn’t as bad as it could have been but Jimin takes it more seriously, more dramatically than you are. Maybe you should be a little bit more serious about it.  
  
_‘How did it feel? You know, swinging with Spider-Man?’_ he asks you and the wave of feelings flood your chest. You can’t really explain it to yourself, much less, out loud. How do you even put into words that it felt like a dream, it felt unreal but also very real at the same time? You try to tell him, try to make sense of everything. It was incredible, but incredible doesn’t even come close to describing it. Sure, it was just a minute, maybe even less that you were in the air with him but it felt good. You truly felt protected, you felt safe. And actually holding onto him was —  
  
“Wow,” Jimin rasps, snapping you out of your rave about your little adventure with Spider-Man. You look up at him to see a grin stretch his lips and you just want to throw your phone in his face, “You didn’t tell me you had a little crush on Spider-Man.”  
  
You feel heat rush to your cheeks and, “_Anyways,_ did you file in your internship application?” he looks at you a little confused and you roll your eyes, “C’mon, Jimin, you said you’d do the internship with me!”  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut, a crease forming between his brows, “Shit, I know, I know. I just forgot I guess.”  
  
Your heart sinks deep in your chest because this was supposed to be something you two finally did together, other than have classes together. You hoped this internship would bring you two together but you realize that’s not going to happen. And you don’t know why you feel this gap between you and Jimin grow more and more, and it pains your chest. All you can offer is a sigh, in complete and utter defeat, and your shoulders slump over. How can you have Jimin back again?  
  
You leave Jimin’s apartment shortly after that conversation, and you truly just didn’t want to sit in there with him anymore. You truly feel like you’re losing your best friend more and more and there’s nothing you can do about it. All your efforts to keep the two of you together have failed. He video calls you _almost_ every night but it’s mainly because he needs to know what happened in class. You don’t want to be his impromptu professor, you want to be his friend again, you want to be —  
  
You don’t know what you want to be. You do but you don’t want to admit it because if you admit it to yourself it’ll hurt you because you know it won’t happen.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
“So did you tell your girl?” Taehyung asks ring of his comm blaring in Jimin’s ear. _‘She’s not my girl, and no I didn’t.’_ “Are you an idiot? You understand that it’s _okay _to tell her. I promise nothing will happen to her. She might be in shock, but that’s about it.”  
  
Jimin perches up on the ceiling, his suit tight against his skin as he squats to look down at the streets. The sun above him blaring against his lenses. No, you’re not his girl as much as he’d like — you’re just not _his_ girl, he’s sure you wouldn’t even be interested in being his girl. You left him in slight irritation after he told you he wasn’t doing the internship with you. He honestly couldn’t even recall where the internship was or what company. In his defense, he did forget about it, but that’s not really an excuse. He promised you he would do this with you and now he’s not. _‘Fuck,’_ Jimin growls behind his mask.  
  
“Trouble in paradise?” Taehyng asks.  
  
“How many time do I gotta tell you, me and Y/N aren’t together?” Jimin snaps at him. _‘Only because you’re being an idiot about it,’_ Taehyung says, venom deep in his voice. “Listen I messed up today, okay? Pretty sure she doesn’t wanna talk to me no more.”  
  
“Did you apologize?” Taehyung asks, _‘of course I did,’_ Jimin sighs softly. “Okay, maybe, apologies aren’t cutting it for her, did you think about that? How many times have you apologized to her for flaking on literally everything? I’m pretty sure she’s tired of it by now.”  
  
Jimin hangs up the call on him because he doesn’t want to hear it anymore and his hands are shaking as he swings to another building. He stumbles over the edge of the next building and he’s not even breathing right. He’s panting unable to catch his breath, and he can’t control it anymore. Taehyung is right, he’s right and it pisses him off to admit it. Or rather, he’s pissed off at himself for making you feel that way.  
  
Deep down, he knows you’re tired of his apologies. He knows he’s been ditching you too much this past year, and he tries to make up for it but he doesn’t know how anymore. He doesn’t know what to do about the situation anymore. He knows he needs to make things right with you but he doesn’t know how to anymore. He wants to be able to tell you and maybe that will make things right, but he’s afraid that he might lose you when he tells you he’s Spider-Man.  
  
Jimin wishes he could just be Spider-Man, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this and he’d focus on being a hero and being an Avenger. He loves it so much, he loves being Spider-Man. Bruises and cuts and injuries aside, it’s fun, it’s a thrill, he’s _somebody _when he’s Spider-Man. But he just wants to be Park Jimin, he wants that to be enough, he wants to be enough but as Jimin, he can’t do anything, he can’t save anyone. As Jimin, he’s not good enough for _you_, but as Spider-Man, he is.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, if he can’t be there with you as Jimin than maybe you’ll accept him as Spider-Man. And he doesn’t realize that his body is taking him to your apartment building, and he sees it within view and he just needs to see you. He doesn’t know what he would say, or what he should say, he just wants to see you again. He swears to himself he’ll feel better if he sees you now —  
  
Just by total coincidence, maybe the skies above him love him right now, you’re outside your balcony and you’re sitting on the little lawn chair you have outside, legs propped up. There you are, just a few more swings away from you, and he knows he needs to turn the other way. Go back to the Avengers Tower and report in, get lectured and scolded by Taehyung for hanging up on him and for being an idiot. And his body is taking him straight to you.  
  
Jimin’s lenses adjust to see you more clearly and he sees you look up — Did you just spot him? His heart spikes up to a million. He really just hopes he can talk to you because that’s all he wants. Is it weird to talk to you as Spider-Man? He really doesn’t have time to even think about the consequences of it because he lands right next to your balcony, hard brick underneath his feet and fingertips and he sees you flinch.  
  
“‘Afternoon, Miss. Hope I didn’t scare ya,” Jimin drawls, it feels odd, talking to you like this but he just can’t afford for you or anyone to recognize him.  
  
You chuckle softly, legs coming down to the floor. Oh, no, his heart is beating so quickly against his chest, and really he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. It must be the suit being too tight, yeah, that’s what it is. He moves closer to your balcony and that’s when he sees the red puff underneath your eyes and his stomach sinks.  
  
“It must be a slow day if you have time to visit me,” you joke, eyebrow cocking up as you lean against the railing of your balcony. There’s a sad smile stretching across your lips and he doesn’t want to see this —  
  
“I was in the neighborhood,” he lies. It’s not a total lie, but maybe he did purposefully come out of his way to see you. Still, he knows _you_ too well, as Jimin, he knows you like the back of his hand. He upset you earlier, more than he intended, or even wanted. “Why the long face? You gotta cloud loomin’ over ya.”  
  
There’s a soft,_ ‘oh,’ _that slips past your lips and you blink away whatever tears may or may not have been on the corners of your eyes. You sink back to sit down on your lawn chair, your hands resting in your lap while you pick at your nails. He knows that habit too well, it’s something you do when you’re hesitant to talk about something. You shake your head, _‘just friend trouble I guess.’  
_  
Yup, it was him that made you upset without a doubt. He’s such an idiot, how could he do this to you. You’re the one person he doesn’t want to get hurt, and yet, he _is_ hurting you. He perches up on the railing of your balcony.  
  
“Is this some punk I gotta beat up?” he asks, and of course, he has to beat himself up. _Or_ maybe he doesn’t, maybe he can talk to you as Spider-Man and find a way to make thing better as Jimin. It could work, right?  
  
You wave your hand dismissively, chuckling softly at his question, “No, no, he’s a good guy, he’s just an idiot sometimes.”  
  
Ouch, that may have hurt his pride a little bit. Jimin knows you aren’t wrong, he knows he’s an idiot and he’ll spend the rest of forever for causing you pain. He failed you once as Spider-Man and now he’s failing you again as Jimin. So maybe, that comment of your was completely warranted. He wants to apologize again, but he knows that won’t fix anything, not anymore. He wants to say something —  
  
_“ALL UNITS WE HAVE AN ARMED ROBBERY AT THE BANK ON MAIN STREET. THEY ARE HOLDING HOSTAGES!”  
_  
The police comm rings in his ear and he sighs quietly to himself. He sees that you’ve straightened up in your chair, clued into something going on. Jimin can hear the sirens several blocks away and he looks back at you.   
  
“Duty calls,” he tells you and you just nod in understanding, _‘I’ll see you around Spider-Man.’ _He’s about to swing off, leave you to your thoughts and concerns, but he can’t. He clears his throat, how exactly can he put this tactfully? “Hey, I know it might not be much help, but I’d be happy to listen to whatever problems ya got. Sometimes, it helps to have a listenin’ ear, ya know?”  
  
_“REPORT BACK UP IS NEEDED, I REPEAT BACK UP IS NEEDED!”  
_  
Fuck, he curses, just a few more seconds. He sees you about to says something and — “If you’re interested, ya could meet me on the roof of yer building. Midnight.”  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
You’re crazy, you are absolutely insane and totally just out of it. Are you really going to agree to talk to Spider-Man? Not that he would try to hurt you, he’s a hero, but he could if he wanted. He’s _Spider-Man_. Maybe this isn’t the best idea, after all. You want to weigh out the pros and cons of this decision because you can’t even think of your chemistry exam on Tuesday, that’s the least of your troubles.  
  
Is it the best idea for you to talk to a complete stranger? Sure, Spider-Man is the city’s sensation but who is he? You don’t know who he is, so why should you be talking to him about your troubles? It’s weird, right? But you really just need to get this off your chest, call Seunghee or someone, but you just can’t. Seunghee would just tell you to talk to Jimin, and it’s not that you haven’t tried but every conversation you try and have with him, you end up feeling not satisfied. You want to call Jimin, but it wouldn’t be cool to ask, _‘do you think it’s a good idea to have a conversation with Spider-Man about you?’  
  
_You toss your chemistry book to the side because everything is just starting to feel hopeless. You just feel like you’re so alone right now. You feel like you don’t have anyone to turn to. You’re just suffocating on your own. Maybe once you start this internship with Oscorp, it’ll take your mind off everything. Even though you wanted to do this with Jimin, but that would have to wait.  
  
You were shocked to hear that he had forgotten to apply for the internship at Oscorp. That’s all he could talk about when you first met was being able to work for them. Maybe his excitement dwindled at some point, he might have changed his opinion about Oscorp and Norman Osborn, but he never told you about it. How much has been keeping from you? No, you can’t think about that, he’s entitled to his secrets, he doesn’t have to tell you everything. You haven’t told him everything yourself.  
  
And yes you’re definitely crazy when there are just fifteen minutes left until midnight and you’re walking up the stairs to go to the roof of your apartment building. You’re so crazy, you should just turn back now and not even worry about it. It’s not like you see Spider-Man all the time, he’s not around campus, he’s not the pizza guy who delivers your pizza every time. He’s a hero, who has a busy schedule. You’re sure it wouldn’t hurt his feelings if you didn’t show up. He did after all say if you wanted.  
  
What if he doesn’t show up? Well, no one would know that you’re out there waiting for Spider-Man but you’d feel embarrassed. Your pride will be hurt.  
  
You open the door to the rooftop and the breeze of the night nips softly at your cheeks. You walk past the small

little garden, and really you haven’t enjoyed much of this place. You rarely have been up on the roof, maybe a few times with Jimin and a few friends to see the fireworks for New Years, but you haven’t been up here just to be up here.  
  
You’ve lived in the city for a few years now, since your freshmen year of university and you’ve been on your own since. Your parents still live just outside another city in the suburbs about two hours away. God, it was your dream to live in this city. But since you started university, you haven’t had the time to enjoy it the way you want to. Sure, you’ve found several delicious food joints, some cheap, some not so cheap that both you and Jimin stumbled into you two’s freshman year of university. Really, once you and Jimin got close to each other, you two did everything together, it also helped that you two were in the same major and have been in some of the same classes since.  
  
As you stand there, with the brisk autumn breeze nipping at your skin, you realize you have yet to enjoy it and you know exactly why. This entire time you’ve been just waiting to enjoy it with Jimin again. Just to go around the city and walk around together, go to the little shops, maybe get lost together, just as long as you two are together. You miss your best friend and it hurts more and more every day.  
  
There’s soft thud next to you and you jump at the sound —  
  
“Glad I didn’t scare you off,” his voice chuckles next to you and you can’t help but feel some comfort when you hear him.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
When he sees you on the roof as he swings up, his heart completely skyrockets off. Jimin almost slips off the web from the excitement vibrating his body once he sees you. You actually decided to take up his offer — well _Spider-Man’s_ offer. He lands just little ways away from you, the boots of his suit thud against the floor of the roof. And you look over at him and his heart is so loud and he can’t help —  
  
“Glad I didn’t scare you off,” Jimin notes, and honestly it was more to give himself comfort. His pride would have definitely been hurt had you not showed up. Both as Jimin and as Spider-Man. God, he can practically hear Taehyung’s laugh if he told him that’s what happened. He’s really glad that you aren’t scared of him in a suit.  
  
You chuckle softly, arms tucking into the pockets of your hoodie, “I guess I do need to get a few things off my mind.”  
  
There it is again, he sees that sad smile stretch your lips and it hurts him to see it. He’s seen it too many times now and it doesn’t get any easier. Would it be inappropriate for him, as Spider-Man, to reach out to you and hug you? That’s all he wants to do, he just wants to hold you in his arms. Apologize over and over again for being a jackass to you, maybe tell you — No. No. He can’t tell you.  
  
Jimin walks over to you, and the closer he gets to you, the more beautiful you look with the city lights bouncing off you. He wants to wrap his arm around your waist, swing off with you and show you how beautiful the city looks through his eyes. Oh, he knows you’d love that. But all of that isn’t important right now —  
  
“I’m all ears, Miss,” he tells you, deciding to take a seat on the hard, cold floor beneath him. He assumes this will be a long talk, not that he’s opposed to it. _‘You know you can just call me Y/N,’_ you assure him. He chuckles behind his mask, “Are we at a first name basis?”  
  
“Absolutely!” you say, a smirk stretching your lips and you point to him, “So should I call you Spider-Man or—“ and you pitch your voice up slightly and he looks up at you with a stutter slipping his lips. Wait, wait, you’re not serious right? You don’t expect him to actually — You laugh softly and, “I’m joking, I’m joking.”  
  
Jimin sighs in relief, and he swallows hard because his heart is so lodged far into his throat. He can’t imagine what he would do if you did expect him to say who he is. He feels a little sick at that hypothetical scenario.  
  
You sit down next to him, back against the edge of the roof and, “Have you ever told anyone?”  
  
“Who I am behind the mask?” he asks you, even though he knows that’s exactly what you’re asking. The very thought ignites a panic in his chest, and he just wants to tell you it’s him, but, “What’s the fun in that? I gotta keep some mystery to me.”  
  
And that makes you laugh next to him and this is how you should be. You should be laughing, _he_ should be the one making you laugh. He’s been doing a terrible job at it and he hates himself for not being able to be your friend.  
  
“So, no one knows?” you ask him, snapping him out of his internal struggle. All he does is shake his head because if he opens his mouth right now, he’ll tell you. “Isn’t that a little lonely?”  
  
That question certainly stumps him because he really had never thought of it that way. In a way, he supposes it is lonely, not telling anyone about who he is, or rather, that he’s Spider-Man. Jimin’s always just seen it as a necessary secret he has to keep. It’s wrong for him to see it as lonely, right? If he tells anyone because he’s lonely, then it’s selfish of him, right? He desperately wants to tell you, he wishes he could just a little bit more selfish.  
  
Jimin has been thinking about this for too long, and he gives a soft hum before he says, “I guess. The Avengers know, does that count?”  
  
You tilt your head to the side a bit, lips pouting out as your think before just mumbling, _‘I guess.’_ He knows that the Avengers don’t really count. In reality, he’s not close to any of them. Maybe, Taehyung is the one he’s closest to, probably because they are the same age, and he interacts with him more than the other Avengers. Taehyung’s right, it’s Iron Man and Spider-Man working together.  
  
Taehyung’s a friend and Jimin isn’t willing to admit that even to himself. Taehyung just seems so far detached from him, he’s a billionaire with a huge company. But Jimin knows he’s willing to help with anything he needs. Taehyung pays him, he’s provided his labs for him to make his suits and any materials he needs. He’s even offered to make sure you’re safe if Jimin decides to tell you who he is — or rather if any danger comes to you. Perhaps Jimin should be a little grateful for Taehyung but even in the comfort of his mind, he doesn’t want to admit that.  
  
Jimin’s eyes flicker to your hands, and you’re fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Why is he so nervous to have this conversation with you? It’s wrong, isn’t it? It’s wrong for him to hear you talk about him, with the comfort of thinking he won’t hear about it. He frowns at himself because he just confused himself.  
  
“So, what’s this _friend_ trouble ya got?” Jimin asks, and you purse your lips tight, “You sure it ain’t some punk I gotta beat up?”  
  
_‘Well,’_ you hum softly in feigned thinking before shaking your head. Jimin exhales to himself because at least you don’t want any harm to him. “Wouldn’t that be an abuse of power?”  
  
Jimin just laughs at your question. Jimin has actually considered this question several times since he was bitten. He chose not to join any sports team when he was in high school because he knew that would be unfair. All his sense and any sort of athletic ability were dialed to eleven, and if he couldn’t do all that stuff before then he couldn’t do it after — at least he shouldn’t do it. He chose to be the same Park Jimin he’s always been, he didn’t want to stick out if all of a sudden he was able to tackle a guy in school that was three times as heavy as he was.  
  
Jimin knows all this, he understands he can’t abuse his power to benefit him. He knows he has to keep Park Jimin separate from Spider-Man. And sure, to you, maybe if Spider-Man beats up Park Jimin that would be an abuse to his power. God, deep down inside, he wishes he could beat himself up, he’s hurting you, and he can’t stress enough to himself that you are one of the last people he wants to hurt.  
  
“Listen, if this punk’s hurtin’ ya —“ he starts before you cut him off.  
  
“No no, it’s not like that, really,” you sigh softly, fingers wringing the knuckles of your fingers. “Jimin’s a good guy. More than good, he’s actually pretty great. He’s really smart, funny and just goofy. He’s a good friend, he’s been there for me a lot.”  
  
Oh. _Oh._ That makes Jimin’s heart swell in his chest and he swears he’s not even breathing or maybe the mask is actually finally suffocating him. It’s getting increasingly more difficult for him to swallow the lump in his throat. Why is this affecting him so much? Just hearing you say that makes him feel _something._  
  
“What’s the trouble then?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper because he knows his voice will fail him if he speaks any louder.  
  
You sigh louder this time, face burying into your palms and all Jimin wants to do is reach out, bring you into him. You mumble into your hands, _‘I miss him,’_ and he just wants to tell you _I’m here, I’m here_. He can’t, he knows he can’t, and so much is holding him back right now. He clears his throat softly, _‘is he gone?’_ he asks because he has to at least _pretend_ he doesn’t know what’s going on.  
  
“No he’s not _gone,_” you clarify, “But he’s not around anymore, I dunno. He’s been really secretive lately and it seems like he doesn’t have time for me — I mean not that he needs to make time for me or anything. I just would like to hang out with him again like we used to.”  
  
Jimin thought this would be easy, he thought it would be so easy to hear this but it’s not. It’s a million times harder and it weighs heavy on his chest the more you speak. He has no right to feel pity for himself and he doesn’t, he absolutely does not. He just feels guilty for making you go through this.  
  
He admits he really didn’t think of how this would affect you. He didn’t know you’d feel this way. Even when you’d confront him on this, it still surprised, he originally thought that you would like the space between you two because you two saw each other so much. He thought you wouldn’t mind because you didn’t want to spend that much time with him, but he was wrong — you did miss him.  
  
“Have you talked to him?” Jimin asks, even though he knows the answer. You definitely have talked to him and he’s totally afraid of your answer but he knows he has to ask you.  
  
“Yes,” you breathe out softly,_ ‘and?’_ he pries. “He just doesn’t get it? Every single time I talk to him, I leave just feeling worse about the situation. He never clarifies anything, he just apologizes and I don’t know how much more I can take it. He always gives me excuses, but he never says what kept him from being able to be with me — I mean hang out with me.”  
  
Jimin’s an idiot, a complete and total idiot. He’s tried so hard to keep his secret from you, and he thought that maybe apologies would make everything better. Now he knows, it doesn’t help, it didn’t help. He never put your mind at ease. He understands that his excuses are never good or valid and the guilt building up in him is making him nauseous. There’s a question hanging on his lip, but he’s so afraid of the answer —  
  
“Do ya think he could make up for it?” he asks, holding his breath because he’s so afraid and he wishes he hadn’t asked.  
  
You sigh, it’s such a soft sound and it’s the fifth time he’s heard it but this one has more weight to it. His stomach sinks inside him, there’s no going back after this. He can almost hear your answer on the tip of your tongue. _No, he can’t make up for it,_ he hears it, he hears it so clearly, _I’m going to drop Park Jimin,_ he feels sick, he can’t breathe, he’s going to vomit inside his suit.  
  
“Yes,” you mumble and Jimin’s heart ignites in complete and total flames and air rushes into him all at once, “I know every time he apologizes, every time he makes up for it, I’ll forgive him. But all I want is just to have one day with him. Is that dumb?”  
  
He knows he’s been staring at you for far too many seconds too long and his chest is rising and falling too quickly and he still can’t seem to catch his breath. You’ll forgive him? You’ll forgive —  
  
“No, no no no,” he rushes out, voice pitching up as he speaks. “He’s yer friend, yeah? Give ‘im time. Yeah, he’s been a jerk but, maybe he’ll learn, ya know? I mean, maybe be a lil blunt with ‘im. Guys are idiots, they needa be told things as straightforward as possible.”  
  
“Do you speak from experience?” you jab at him, a sly smirk tugging the corner of your lip.  
  
There you are, there’s that banter he was looking for and it makes his heart spike up and he feigns offense, “I’ll have ya know I’m a total gentleman.”  
  
That’s a lie, maybe as Spider-Man he’s a gentleman but as Park Jimin, clearly, he’s not. And he’s about to say something else, open his mouth so he can make you laugh just one more time —  
  
“Where the hell have you been?” Taehyung’s voice rings through his command Jimin groans loudly behind his mask.  
  
You furrow your brows at him, tilting your head to the side. He puts his finger up to his mask before, “Whatchu need?”  
  
“I appreciate that you decided to silence your comm for an hour, that’s really great, it’s not like I need you or anything. It’s not like you’re a superhero or anything,” Taehyung scolds, and Jimin can hear the seething anger in his voice. _‘Sorry, I got somethin’ —‘_ comes out of Jimin’s mouth before, “I don’t care. You better get your spider ass over here, before I revoke your Avenger status.”  
  
And his voice is gone and Jimin groans heavily, muttering angrily under his breath. He hears you chuckle next to him. He’s about to apologize like he always does.  
  
“Duty calls again?” you ask him and all he can do it nod. You just offer him a smile, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
Your heart has not managed to beat rapidly since the last week. Your little chat with Spider-Man was more than you expected. It was weird though, you found talking to him was easy, it felt natural. It was like you two had been friends for so long. You really can’t figure out what came over you that you just spilled everything about Jimin to him. Maybe it was the fact that you had been stressing over this for the past year.  
  
Either way, maybe Spider-Man’s right, maybe all you have to do is be blunter with Jimin and tell him exactly how you feel. Somehow, that seems easier said than done. The distance between you and Jimin has grown, and you know he feels it — or you assume he does. Maybe he is an idiot, maybe he doesn’t know or understand what’s going on. To be honest, you don’t know how to put your feelings into words, how can you tell him when it doesn’t even make sense to you?  
  
Still, you just haven’t managed to find the time to talk to Jimin. You’ve been busy with school and so has he. Even in your chemistry class together, you two just talk about the labs and lectures and have an awkward goodbye. It seems like you both don’t have the time for each other. You started the Oscorp internship last week and you thought it would take your mind off him, but it didn’t. You felt so alone working there, you could have him by your side but he’s not. If anything, you feel more alone. How exactly can you tell him how you feel?  
  
You don’t have time to think about it much longer when —  
  
** _INCOMING VIDEO CALL FROM: Chim Chim  
_ **   
Your stomach does flips and you can’t even figure out how to breathe. Why is this affecting you? Why are you suddenly so nervous to answer his call? You look over at your phone and it’s six in the afternoon. It seems too early for him to call you. You take in a deep breath and hit answer on your laptop.  
  
He’s there on your screen, sitting at his desk and you don’t know why your heart is so loud in your ears. You both answer with a soft _‘hey.’ _There’s this nervousness crawling its way up your chest. It’s been weeks since you’ve been on a call with him like this, actually, it feels like it’s been forever since you two had an actual conversation again. You feel the heat rise up to your cheeks and you know you’re starting to sweat from the nerves.  
  
“Hey,” Jimin repeats again and you chuckle silently at his voice as you repeat, _‘hey.’_ “How have you been?”  
  
“Good, uhh, good, good,” you breathe. This just feels like the first time you’ve ever talked to him and your hands are shaking. “You?” he rubs the back of his neck as he says,_ ‘good.’_ “I forgot to ask, did you pass the chemistry test last week?”  
  
“Oh! Oh right, yeah, I managed to score an A,” he tells you, chest falling as he exhales heavily. His hand brushes back his hair, “I don’t even need to ask what you got. I’m assuming you got an A plus plus, and a gold star on top of it. I swear Professor Lee loves you.”  
  
“Well, it’s only because I actually_ go_ to the man’s class,” you jab lightly, chuckling as you speak. Jimin pouts at the screen, _‘it’s not my fault he’s a boring man.’_ “C’mon his class is not _that _bad. You do keep coming back for some reason.”  
  
“For you,” Jimin answers, completely on cue and there was no hesitation in his answer, no need to think. And your heart skips several beats in your chest. You tell yourself you didn’t hear him correctly, because of course, he didn’t just say that. You imagined it surely. “I go for you.”  
  
You did hear him correctly, and if you thought you couldn’t breathe before, now you’re sure you’re going to have to go to the hospital. Heat rises up in your cheeks. You can’t believe what he just said. Why are you being so affected by this? Maybe, you just needed to hear this, hear it from him. You open your mouth but nothing is coming out, you really don’t know what to say or how to say it —  
  
“Jimin, I —“ you start before he says, _‘I’m really sorry about everything.’ _You breathe out by hearing those words again, “I know, Jimin. I guess I just feel separated from you now,” you shrug.  
  
That’s not what you wanted to say. That doesn’t express anything of what you’re feeling. You curse under your breath quietly. You really can’t even find the right words anymore. You knew you should have prepared for this conversation properly, so you wouldn’t have to sit here and say the wrong things.  
  
Jimin runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back as his eyes scan all of his room. He admits in a low voice — familiarity rushes over you, “I’ve just been so busy, I guess I thought you wouldn’t mind.”  
  
“Wouldn’t mind?” you repeat skeptically and you don’t know why it hurt you that he thought that. Maybe, you’ve been so harsh on him and that’s why he felt that way. “Jimin, you’re my friend, a really good friend. Of course, I mind that we don’t hang out. I — I just miss you.”  
  
And your throat goes completely dry when you say that. How is it so hard to express to him what you’re feeling? You can’t even look at the screen anymore, and you really don’t even need to look at the screen to know that his eyes are on you. You can feel the chill of his eyes on you and you’re so overwhelmed by it. _‘Can I make up for it?’ _Jimin asks and his voice is so low, and breathy.  
  
“You don’t have to,” you start before he says, _‘but I want to.’_ “No, you really don’t have to — it’s okay. I just want to spend time with you,” and you look down at your lap, fiddling with your pajama bottoms. “I thought we’d both be working with Oscorp for the internship, that’s why I applied for it.”  
  
He curses softly under his breath, face going into his palms and it muffles the curse, “I just couldn’t do it,” he admits, and it’s the first time he’s given you a straightforward answer. And you can’t help when _‘why not?’_ comes out. “I — I, uh, I’m working for Stark Industries.”  
  
Relief washes over you, and you can feel your entire body just deflate when you hear those words. Your shoulders slump over. You want to cry, you can feel that tickle in your chest. There it is, what you’ve wanted for so long, you finally get to hear it. A _real_ answer from him. There’s a heavy breath that slips out of your lips. You curse softly under your breath, completely out of just pure relief. You thought you would go crazy if he gave you one more ambiguous answer.  
  
“_Oh,_ really?” you sigh out and it’s such a relief and the tightness in your chest is lifted. _‘Are you mad?’_ he asks. “Mad? What, no. Why would I be mad?”  
  
And his brows furrow tightly, head cocking to the side, eyes wide, “Wait, you’re not? I thought you would be, because of the internship —“  
  
“I mean, sure, I would have liked to work with you,” you admit, leaning back against your headboard, “But really, I just wanted to know what was up.” You sigh again and your heart is finally starting to slow down in your chest. “I’m glad it wasn’t me that was the problem.”  
  
That slipped out, you didn’t want to say that, you never wanted to say that to him because you were so afraid that it was you that was the problem. Deep down in the back of your mind, you were afraid that maybe you had driven him away, or that he was done being your friend for some reason. You finally have relief that there’s _something_ keeping him from you.  
  
“Of course it’s not you,” Jimin rushes out immediately and he’s looking at you now. Well, the camera — the screen, whatever he’s looking at, you can just feel his eyes on you. Your breath is caught in your throat and you don’t know how to even react. His lips part slightly, and, “Let’s have a day together, just us. No school, no studying, no chemistry —“  
  
“Jimin,” you sigh softly, and your heart is lodged in your throat because that’s all you want. You want this day, but, “Don’t make plans if you’re going to back out.” Really, you don’t think you can handle it. One day is all you ask for, but you don’t think you can handle him not being able to pull through with the plans.  
  
“I’ll find a day that could work for the both of us,” he says, leaning into his computer slightly and there’s a smile stretching across his lips.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
Jimin is a complete and utter idiot because he absolutely has not found the time for anything. He can’t even remember when that call was, three weeks ago maybe, and still he has not been able to find the time. It was like the world’s against him, and by the world, he means mainly Kim Taehyung. It’s like he hasn’t been able to breathe because _‘I need you to go to Berlin with me, I have something to take care of,’_ in which Jimin would have to _kindly_ remind Taehyung that he has school.  
  
There have been countless small good deeds Jimin has done throughout the city and he doesn’t have the heart to turn them down. Besides, the older woman he helped out was very kind to him and it made his heart feel ten times bigger when she thanked him with a gummy smile. That’s the part he can’t let go of, as much as being Spider-Man is completely taxing on him, he just can’t bring himself to hang up the suit.  
  
“City’s quiet tonight,” Jimin comments softly, perching up on the ledge of a building. _‘We’ve had a rough few weeks,’_ Taehyung says over the comm. “You mean _I’ve_ had a rough couple of weeks. You’ve just been sittin’ by lettin’ me do the work.”  
  
“It’s just so you can get experience,” Taehyung clarifies and it makes Jimin snort, _‘I’m pretty sure I’ve been doin’ this longer than you.’_ “Alright, alright. Listen, let me make you a deal, okay? Since you’ve been so helpful — really I appreciate you doing your _job_, it’s great —“ and Jimin sighs loudly, _‘I can hang up on ya right now.’ _“I’m trying to give you the night off, but I mean I don’t have to. I can sit by and let you take care of any emergency. Is this what I get for trying to be nice to you? Wow, if only the city knew that their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man isn’t friendly.”  
  
“Wait, wait,” Jimin stops him in the middle of his rant. “Are ya serious? You’re lettin’ me have the night off? You’ll take care of the city tonight?”  
  
“Don’t get too carried away kid,” Taehyung huffs. _‘Kid?’_ Jimin repeats in annoyance. He’s about to yell at him for acting so high and — “Stay suited up, you never know.”  
  
Jimin’s little hope gets crushed before it even had time to rocket off. He could have gone home, stripped himself of the suit and rush to your apartment with a warm pizza already on the way. He could have spent the night with you like he’s done countless nights but he can’t now. Kim Taehyung really is against him.  
  
“This doesn’t seem much a night off,” Jimin mutters angrily. This would be his chance to at least have the night with you. It might a little bit spontaneous but you wouldn’t mind, right? He can’t take this anymore, he admits in a soft voice “I’d like to spend time with Y/N.”  
  
“You still can,” and Jimin can hear the shrug in Taehyung’s voice. “As I recall, you didn’t have a problem completely blowing me off because you were talking to your girl as Spider-Man. Woo her a little bit as Spider-Man,” he suggests and god, Jimin wishes he had him in front of him. He doesn’t want to woo you as Spider-Man though, he wants to be Jimin with you. He wants you to — “It’s just a small suggestion. Or you could just tell her who you are and be done with this identity crisis—“  
  
Jimin doesn’t even bother to give a snarky answer to him, he just hangs up the call. If he has to hear Taehyung say that again, he might just change the communication system in his suit. How is it so hard for him to be with you — well, spend time with you? He has to keep working around his double schedule and it’s getting harder and harder for him. So, maybe, just maybe, he can just speak to you like this. Would you mind? It’s been a while since he’s had contact with you like this, but maybe, it’ll be a nice surprise.  
  
There’s a spark of hope that spreads throughout his chest as he recalls when you told him about when you first met him — or Spider-Man rather. The way you spoke about him makes his heart beat so loudly in his chest. You sounded happy, in awe to be swinging with him. You told him that you felt safe in his arms, that it felt incredible. Can he replicate that feeling again? If he takes you out to see the city, will you feel the same?

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

You jump up in your spot on the couch, blanket shimming off you because there was a thud just outside your window. Your heart gets lodged in the middle of your throat. Nobody could have hit the outside of your wall, you’re on the fourth floor. A bird, maybe? But there’s not usually birds out so late. And then there was a soft knock on your window. On your window? Wait, how can someone —  
  
You don’t even have time to think because you feel all your blood run cold and you quickly stumble over your couch to shut off your lamp. And there’s nothing, everything’s so quiet and all you can hear is your rapid breathing. What do you do? Do you check your window? Do you call the police —  
  
“Y/N!” you hear a voice call out from outside the window. And there’s a relief that washes over you because you definitely recognize the voice. And strangely, you don’t know why you think it’s Jimin but rationally that wouldn’t make sense but it still provides you with some kind of comfort. And then his muffled voice comes through again, “Y/N, I think it’s a lil weird for me to be hangin’ outside yer window, yeah?”  
  
Your heart spikes up immediately and you think yourself silly for thinking it was Jimin. You certainly weren’t expecting _him_ to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, talked to him. You can’t stop your body from walking over to your window, and you peek through your blinds to see a suited figure. From the streetlight, you can see the red and accented blue and then a gloved hand waves when he sees you. There’s a natural laugh of relief that leaves you and you rush over to your balcony door.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting a superhero visiting me so late,” you laugh and there’s this giddy feeling sparking in your chest. And he crawls his way closer to your balcony and there’s a chill that runs down your spine.  
  
“I was in the neighborhood,” he tells you, voice low and teasing almost. ‘Slow day?’ you question, and he shrugs, hand coming off the wall to emphasize the movement. “I have the night off —_ loosely_.”  
  
“You can have the night off?” you ask, with a slight eyebrow raise. _‘Well,’_ he hums behind his mask. Your heart is so loud in your ears and you’re finding it hard to swallow the closer he gets to you. His hands find the railing of your balcony and he perches upon it. You feel so small with his eyes on you, you can’t even see them behind his mask but you can still feel them. _‘Iron Man will take care of the city — for the most part,’ _he tells you. “And so, you decide to come to visit me?”  
  
“This too weird?” he asks, head tilting to the side. _‘No, no, no,’_ you try saying because you totally just offended him. “I wanted to ask how it went with that friend of yers,” he says and you had forgotten that you had talked to Spider-Man about your “troubles” with Jimin. A soft, _‘uhhh,’_ that escapes you. “It went bad?”  
  
“No, it was fine,” you tell him, taking a seat on the small lawn chair on your balcony. You sigh softly, “I mean everything was good, we talked about everything I guess. I, at least, found out why he’s been ditching me.” _‘Oh yeah? What’s that?’_ “He’s working for Stark Industries, working for your partner, Iron Man or uhhh Kim Taehyung, rather.”  
  
“Oh,_ is_ he?” Spider-Man asks, and there’s a drip of skepticism in his voice — or that’s what it sounds to you. He sighs a bit exaggerated, and, “I feel bad for the guy, Taehyung ain’t the best guy to work with.”  
  
“Really? Does he like mistreat his workers?” you ask and your heart spikes up at the thought of anyone mistreating Jimin. He works so hard with everything he does, he doesn’t deserve to work for someone that doesn’t see that. Fuck, maybe you should call him and tell him to quit. You think you can pull some strings with Oscorp —  
  
“Nah, nothin’ like that,” Spider-Man says and his rubs the back of his neck — you’ve seen this before, deja vu, maybe? “I guess, he’s just a jackass to me.”  
  
Your heart settles in your chest while you snort at what he said. “To you? I thought you said you were a gentleman, why would he be a jackass to you?” you ask and you hear him breathe in softly. You assume behind the mask he’s opened his mouth to speak but, “Unless, of course, you’re a jackass to him.”  
  
There’s an exaggerated gasp that slips passed his lips and both his hands come up to his chest. “Ouch, ya hurt me, Y/N! And here I thought we were friends.”  
  
Why is that making you feel a certain way? It makes your heart spike up. Wait, are you actually flirting with Spider-Man? Is that what you’re actually doing? And is he doing it back? No that can’t be, right? He’s a superhero, he has an entire city to take care of. Surely he can’t be worried about having a significant other. Yet, here he is. Somehow, since the first time you had an actual conversation with him, it felt easy to talk to him. He definitely feels more human, more like a normal guy that just happens to wear a mask and saves people. Why does it feel so normal to talk to him? Sure, realistically, you haven’t talked to him much, but it just feels like you have. So friends doesn’t sound so bad.  
  
“We are,” you whisper because it seems so unreal to you. Your nerves are dialed to one million and you’re not sure if you’re breathing correctly. You take a leap and, “So, are there any perks in being friends with Spider-Man?”  
  
“You want perks, huh?” he laughs and the sound is so familiar to you, your chest feels something warm spread all throughout. He taps his finger against his chin and the lenses of his mask squint slightly, before — He holds out his hand towards you, “Do ya trust me?”  
  
Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest and you don’t know if you should grab his hand. Maybe you should turn back to your apartment and lock yourself in. But the adrenaline pumps so fiercely inside you and you nod your head, hand slipping into his. The material of his suit is not what you expected. You don’t remember it feeling that way the time he took you home — or maybe you just hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe now your senses are on full alert. He pulls you close to him, and you look up at him, his lenses just a few inches from your eyes — his face is just so close to yours and you hear him chuckle because you’re so sure the flush on your face is noticeable.  
  
Everything is so slow, or is he deliberately moving slow? His other hand snakes down to your waist and he pulls you up with ease. You squeak, the floor of your balcony leaving your feet. You look at him expectantly —  
  
“Hold onto me, ‘kay?” he tells you, and it’s so similar to the first night you met him. “Arms around my neck, remember? As tight as ya can,” he says, adjusting himself and you a little bit. You do as he says, _‘like this?’_ you ask, adjusting your grip around him slightly. “Atta girl.”  
  
Before you have time to breathe again, his arm tightens around you and there’s the rush of wind all around you. You squeak tightening yourself more around him because you’re definitely sure that the floor and everything below you is gone. You know you’re in there air, you feel it in your stomach and you just feel weightless. Your eyes are squeezed shut when you feel another jerk of your body. And you feel the vibrations of his laugh against you —  
  
“C’mon, Y/N,” you hear him, and you try and open your eyes but you shut them immediately. _‘No, no,’_ you muffle into his neck. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you slightly and you just twitch. “You’re missin’ the view.”  
  
Your stomach sinks down as you feel another jerk and you slowly pry your eyes open. The wind is so loud in your ears, your skin feels so chilled to the breeze. Your sight is slowly coming to you, the night sky beautiful and the lights around you as you two swing between buildings. Street lights so blinding and car lights surround you.  
  
There’s just this weightlessness that overwhelms you more and more but it’s such a rush. Is this what he sees every day? Every night? Every time he swings around the city? _This_ view is what he sees? How does he absolutely not fall in love with this city a million times over from the view? Something spreads throughout your chest, it’s some warmth, some kind of spark, electricity — adrenaline and it just feels so amazing.  
  
Car honks sound below you and they’re so close as he swings again. Everything is so much more than you imagined it’s so much more freeing than you thought. You lose track of time, everything’s going so fast but slow but then fast again. You want to stay like this forever. He yanks the both you high up, and you don’t even know where you are, how far it’s been. And you feel it in the pit of your stomach just how high you are, the more and more he swings up.  
  
You feel some kind of surface beneath your bare feet, loose gravel poking into the pads of your feet causing you to wince at the uncomfortable feeling. Your legs feel so weak underneath you, they just feel like they’re going to give out on you. Everything is just such a rush, _that_ was such a rush. It’s all more than you can describe. Electricity tickles all down your body, fingertips shaking —  
  
“Do ya like it?” Spider-Man asks next to you, fingers adjusting the web shooters on his wrist. His smile just dripping in his voice.  
  
And you really just want to see all of it. You don’t know if it’s the altitude because you really have never been this high up before. The roof of your apartment building is just five floors, and that’s nothing. You don’t even know how many floors _this_ building has. Your heart won’t slow down, and you don’t think you’re breathing correctly. What is breathing? You really don’t know what to do with yourself and a huge smile stretches your lips and you know you look like a happy child.  
  
_‘Did I like it? Do I like it? What — what —‘_ is the only thing that comes out of you. Of course, you like it, you more than like it. What kind of question is it? Haven’t you told him how much you love the city? That you love the city lights and moving here was a dream? Even though you live in your small studio apartment, and you’re stressing over school, you love that you’re in this city. God, how many times have you raved about how much you love the lights, and how much you’ve wanted to just go to the tallest building and just stare at them at night? As childish as that sounds, but it’s been such a small dream of yours. You’ve told Jimin —  
  
“The city lights look amazin’ at night,” Spider-Man says next to you and your eyes follow him. You see just as his chest rises and falls. You’re so acutely aware of him now, there’s so much easiness about him. The feeling of protection returns to your chest, you do feel protected with him. He turns his head towards you, “This a good perk?”  
  
It’s an incredible perk, swinging around with Spider-Man, seeing the city from _his_ eyes? Doing something you really can’t do, yeah it’s more than an incredible perk. But, you can’t say that to him, “I guess it’s not _that_ bad,” you tease, with a roll of your eyes.  
  
“Not _that_ bad, huh?” he repeats, nodding as if he understands something unspoken that you hadn’t said. “Well, Y/N, I aim to impress. _Not that bad_ just don’t sit well with me,” and there’s a deep sigh in the back of his throat that he holds in.  
  
“You’re trying to impress?” you question because you definitely caught that. Surely it could mean anything, he could just be trying to impress the everyday citizen. But you, as an everyday citizen, should already be impressed, and he’s Spider-Man, he really doesn’t have to try hard. The way his lenses widen says the opposite, and the high pitched,_ ‘huh — uhhhh wh-what?’ _Nerves prickle down you and there’s this sense of confidence that blossoms inside you.  
  
“Couldja blame me?” he asks, and you feel so small as he approaches you. You’re warm, very very warm. It’s not the warmest night but that doesn’t matter, because you’re sweating. “You’re a beautiful girl, and from I can tell, you ain’t some kinda criminal —“ and you snort softly at that comment, _‘slow down, tiger.’_ “Hey, hey, I said before, I’m a gentleman. I’ll have ya home before yer bedtime, I’m not gonna try nothin’.”  
  
What’s gotten over you? What makes you take this leap of faith, when you say, “Maybe you should, loser,” in a soft whisper, because you’re so sure that your voice is going to fail you.  
  
He’s close to you, very close to you and all in your vision is the deep red of his suit, and you can pick out the black web detail going across his chest — the black spider prominent in the middle of his chest. A chuckle rumbles in the back of his throat, his hand reaching out to your waist, and he pulls you close to him. You’re flush against him, you’re face to face with his mask.  
  
“Ya want me to make a move?” and his voice is so low and it’s like he’s daring you to answer him, to say yes. You feel the vibrations of his voice against you when he speaks. How are you to react? You really just don’t think about anymore because you’re nodding your head. “_Yeah_?” and you don’t know why that word hits you, you’re not thinking straight, you’re absolutely not thinking straight. Fuck, you wish he didn’t have the mask on, all you want to do it — “How ‘bout I take ya home, Miss. It’s gettin’ late.”  
  
Your heart sinks in your chest in disappointment. What were you expecting? You really don’t know, but you wanted _something_. Of course, you don’t have it in you to object, to protest like a spoiled brat. You just wrap your arms around his neck, like he tells you to. Your stomach is stirring so uncomfortably inside you. What exactly did you expect? That he’d take his mask off? Kiss you? Swing away with you into the city? Take you to go meet Iron Man?  
  
You really aren’t thinking straight anymore. You’re lost in your own thoughts. You should be admiring the view around you, buildings whizzing passed you both, hearing the light _thwip_ of his web shooters. But you’re holding onto _him_, to Spider-Man, and that’s really all you can think about. And with the wind breezing between you two, you catch the light smell of him. His cologne, maybe? Shampoo? Or is it just _him_? He smells so familiar, this overwhelming sense of nostalgia washes over you.  
  
He lands right beside your balcony, sticking to the side of your building and he holds onto you while you shimmy off him. _‘Don’t look down, yeah? Just look at me,’ _he tells you because you’re shaking as your foot lands on the railing of your balcony. You crouch slowly so that your foot can reach down to the floor of your balcony — and you’re back onto it, back into reality. He crawls his way to your railing, again perching up on it and you tap on his chest lightly.  
  
“Was it fun? Scary?” Spider-Man asks softly. You pout out your bottom lip in thought and, “Maybe, I should toss ya off the building next time and catch ya mid-air. I gotta amp it up, right? Don’t want you leavin’ a _‘not that bad’_ review on me.”  
  
“What!” you bark at him, he laughs at your reaction and why do you know this laugh — you’ve heard it before you’re sure of it. “Are you crazy! If you do that, I’ll definitely leave a bad review! ‘Don’t trust this bug boy, he’s just an adrenaline junkie.’”  
  
His laugh just bellows out loudly, feet dangling off the railing so he scoots off. “You’re right, you’re right. Guess ya can’t _hang_ with me then, huh?”  
  
You whack his chest lightly, rolling your eyes at the unbelievably cheesy pun he made. “Oh, har har har,” you laugh sarcastically. Is he really a superhero? Spider-Man really makes puns? He’s really just some silly guy underneath the mask, who doesn’t take himself seriously.  
  
“Okay, okay, I guess maybe tossing you off a building is a _lil_ extreme,” he admits tapping his finger to his chin. _‘Just a bit,’_ you agree. You’re definitely aware at how close he’s getting to you, _almost_ like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. “How about ya close yer eyes for me.” You raise your eyebrow at him skeptically and he raises his arm in defense, “I promise I won’t just toss ya —“  
  
You roll your eyes at him in a light tease, trying to stop the smile from cracking your lips. You do as he says, letting your eyelids flutter closed. You can feel your breathing pick up slowly as the seconds go by. He shuffles in front of you. You’re half tempted to open your eyes and peek just to see what he’s up to. He’s moving, at least that’s what you hear. You swear everything is going so fucking slow and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears. His hands are on you, on your waist and you flinch at the contact. _‘Don’t open them, okay,’ _he reminds you again, in a whispered voice like if he speaks any louder the moment will be ruined. _Three, four, five,_ and you’re counting down the seconds and you don’t know how long —  
  
_Soft_ is the first thing that comes to mind, _very very soft_. Then a fire ignites in your chest and tickles up to your scalp. His lips are on you, sealed against yours. His lips are just so soft, so flush and full against yours. They’re careful, and his fingers dig into your hipbone, pulling you closer to him. His lips feel so perfect against yours like they’re meant to be kissing you like they were made to fit yours. You’re lightheaded completely and totally lightheaded.  
  
He sucks softly on your bottom lip and you’re definitely just floating, you feel like you’re floating in the air. You’re afraid you’re just going to suddenly defy gravity. You need something to ground you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re fully expecting to feel the strands of his hair but your fingers only find the material of his mask. So he only pulled it up enough? You feel it, you feel his warm tongue on you and oh _fuck _what are you feeling? Heat rises up and down your body.  
  
His lips feel good, they feel really good, and — You shouldn’t be doing this. This feeling is rising up inside you, you shouldn’t be doing this. You _want_ to do this, it feels_ right,_ but he’s not Jimin. The thought possesses you, _he’s not Jimin_. And before you can pull away, he does. _‘Eyes closed,’_ he whispers, and you just nod.  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
Why did he do that? It’s been three days since he’s kissed you and he hasn’t been able to get his mind off it. Jimin did what he really shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have kissed you as Spider-Man. But he couldn’t stop himself. Nothing in his body screamed _control yourself, control yourself! _He just went for it without a second thought. And fuck, it felt good, it felt amazing. To have your lips on him? That’s all he’s ever wanted.  
  
Still, he’s not thinking straight. He hasn’t been able to fucking think straight since and it’s been affecting him. _‘You lose your head or something?’_ Taehyung asked him at the beginning of the night. _‘Yeah, just stress,’_ he answered him and that wasn’t far from the truth. He can’t stay away from you now, he just can’t.  
  
His head rings, ears throbbing and brain completely rattled because he just got hit with — what, a pipe? Since when have his enemies needed henchmen? Since when has _Electro_ needed henchmen? Hasn’t he always claimed that _’Spider-Man’s mine,’_ henchmen seemed so beneath Electro. There’s another heavy blow right to his ribs and his breathe leaves him.  
  
“Jimin! Jimin! What’s gotten into you? Hey, hey!” Taehyung shouts into the comm.  
  
Jimin needs to get out of here, he wants to leave, he can’t do this now, he can’t fight now. Where has his strength gone? He tries to get back up, but his limbs are failing him, his muscles twitch the more he tries to move. The faint beams of the iron suit shoot above him along with the shouts of Taehyung coming through but everything is becoming white noise to him.  
  
And then his whole body is shaking, electricity surging through him and his muscles tighten up, constrict so painfully tight. His chest caves into himself and his jaw clamps shut. He can’t make noise, fuck it hurts so much, but he can’t make noise. And then the roar of laughter just a ways away from him, throwing insults.  
  
“Thought you were better than this, Spider-Man,” Electro shouts, laugh erupting out of him, mocking him. “You lost your juice, what’s wrong you little insect?”  
  
“Jimin, come on! Get up!” Taehyung yells at him, and he beams down more of the henchmen.  
  
Jimin can’t speak, can’t talk. He can’t get up, all he can do is crawl away. He needs to see you, you’re all he cares about right now. Whimper after whimper slip from his lips and his chest is heavy as he crawls away. The shocks of electricity aside, but is this fear? He’s afraid, he’s so afraid. And he can’t even hear Taehyung’s screams, _more henchmen?_ And then shock after shock shake his body and —  
  
He shoots his web shooters somewhere, _anywhere,_ and he lunges into a shipping container. There’s a sharp pain that causes a scream to rip out of Jimin. His leg stings, surges of sharp burning pain spread throughout his thigh. He slams his fists against the shipping container. There’s a metal rod jutting out the container and made it’s way through the side of his thigh and_ fuck, fuck_ it hurts.  
  
“Jimin, go back to headquarters, they’ll take care of you there!” Taehyung tells him. Jimin falls limp on the ground. He can’t breathe he really can’t breathe. The pain is so overwhelming and it’s suffocating him because he really can’t breathe. “Go! I’ll take care of Electro. Go!”  
  
Jimin can’t think of anything else but _get away, get away and go to Y/N._ He’s a complete idiot not thinking of any kind of consequence he just wants to see you.  
  
It hurts, and _fuck,_ it hurts a lot, Jimin hasn’t felt this much pain in a long time. Even the wind, passing by as he swinging sluggishly between buildings, stings the wound on the side of his leg. God, he can feel everything, the sting of it feels like it’s ripping open more and more as he swings. The loose fibers of his torn suit stick to the edges of his wound and it feels like fire in his leg. Oh, the blood — he feels every drop of blood pour down his leg. The shocks of Electro still weighing heavy in his chest. It’s still so tight. His stomach churns and —  
  
His heart is lodged deep in his throat, and his head feels so light and his eyelids so heavy, he just wants to stop moving. At this point, his body is on autopilot, he’s exhausted. He wants to see you though, that’s the only thing that he can think about now, over the pain. His arms swing himself subconsciously to your place and he really just needs to see you, once he sees you, he’ll be okay.  
  
Jimin’s body slams on the side of your building and the side of his body bruises on the impact. He climbs his way up to your balcony, only to stumble on the railing and fall on the floor of the balcony. His body feels so heavy and he doesn’t even know if he can hold himself up anymore. He shoots a web up to slowly pull himself up and he leans against the wall as he knocks on the window of the door to your balcony. He waits, painfully waits for too many seconds, maybe even minutes. He hears shuffling and it all seems too far away —  
  
“Hey, hey?” he hears and it sounds like you and the rest of it he doesn’t catch because he can’t focus on your voice, he’s just staring at you. His heart skyrockets to a million. And he sees your mouth move and your face concerned and he doesn’t even remember why you would look so concerned. “What happened to you?”  
  
“Just a scratch, yeah?” he rasps, his voice so low and hoarse that it even surprises him.  
  
He wished he could have been cool around you, but unfortunately with a hole in his leg, and blood dripping down, he kind of really can’t. Even with the blurry vision behind his lids, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and he just wants to hold you. He wants to tell you to not worry about him, but he knows you too well, he knows you will even if you don’t really know anything about Spider-Man. If you were to find out, he is Spider-Man, he’ll never hear the end of it. In a way, it flatters him that you’re as caring as you are, that he’s always on your mind one way or another, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. He loves it because you plague his mind daily.  
  
And your arm comes around him, and yes, you’re right here next to him and he feels how cool you are in contrast to him. Should he be worried that he might be running a fever? Probably. Maybe it’s just the heat of the suit or the fact that you’ve been in an air-conditioned apartment so of course, you’ll be cooler.  
  
He tries to mumble something under his breath, _‘blood, blood,’_ he wants to warn you, not that you can’t see it. And you lean in closer to him before he slurs, “I don’t wanna ruin yer floor with blood.”   
  
“I think that’s the least of my worries,” you tell him.  
  
Jimin tries to make sense of what exactly is going on around him, exactly what you’re scrambling around your apartment for. He doesn’t even know where you’ve left him, his eyes are so tired behind the mask and his head feels heavy as it dangles, straining his neck. He faintly hears you snap in front of him and he can’t be bothered to look up and you’re saying something about, what? His leg?  
  
And the pain starts, teeth clenched tight against one another as you wrap a towel around his leg. His knees buckle before you catch him and again and sweat drips more and more on his temples under his mask. His vision completely blurs and he wants to blame it on the lenses. A black film casts over the corners of his eyes and he can’t even handle the pain and he prays to the sky that it subsides. He curses through his teeth more and more and he hears you apologize under your breath as you set him down, on the floor, a chair, the couch, he doesn’t even know.  
  
Everything happens in a blur for him, there was just so much fucking pain for him. He’s panting and grunting and his mask is starting to suffocate him. He can’t help but let curse after curse slip from his mouth, and he just wants you to stop. He feels the thread go into his skin and feel every fiber of it and he’s so nauseous. His fingers dig into the armrests of your chair. He wants the pain to stop, why is he taking so long to heal? He’s so tired, your attention to his leg long since stopped.  
  
His lids are heavier than before and there’s this ringing so loud in his ears. He hears you say something about alcohol, and you place a bottle of something on the coffee table. He mumbles your name, voice breathy and he wants to call out to you more, he needs you here with him but you’re far away from him.  
  
“I’ll be back, okay? I’m gonna get water for you, just wait, okay?” you tell him. “I have to run to the store. Spidey, C'mon, stay with me. I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
Jimin doesn’t know if he even heard you correctly, or where you went. He can’t help but let his lids close, and at the back of his head, he knows he’s at your apartment and he breathes in softly, and you are the only thing he can smell. He gets lost in the feeling of how good it feels to have his eyes closed and he drifts off —  
  
And his whole body jerks forward, air rushing into his lungs and his heart pounds loudly against his chest. He feels your hand on his shoulder but he can feel himself flail in the couch until his eyes finally settle on you and you push your hands down on his chest.  
  
“Damn near gave me a heart attack,” Jimin barks, breath heavy as his chest rises. You try to joke lightly, _‘didn’t know Spider-Man got scared.’ _“Nah, nothin’ really scares me,” he tries to play off, puffy out his chest weakly, “Lil on edge is all.” And that’s all a damn lie, of course, things scare him. He was terrified off his mind earlier tonight but —  
  
You do your little snort at him, the snort that he loves hearing as Jimin and he loves it even more that he’s Spider-Man. “No, no of course not. You’re a real tough man,” you tease and he clicks his tongue at you. _‘Don’t appreciate that tone, Miss,’_ he huffs at you. “_Tone?_ No, no, no tone. I believe you, Spider-Man. Nothing scares _ya._”  
  
“Ya mimickin’ my accent?” he accuses, arms crossing across his chest and he winces at the pain surging through his body. _‘I would never.’_ “Uh-huh.”  
  
God, he missed you, he missed you so much. He needs this, he needs you. He just wants to be here with you. And you place a pack of water bottles on the coffee table in front of him and he arches his eyebrow behind his mask. You push over the bottle of alcohol, _‘you didn’t take a swig?’_  
  
“You had alcohol, but not water?” he questions you. Strange that he never noticed that before.  
  
“When you’re a chemistry major, all you need is alcohol,” you joke.  
  
And he sees your hands shake lightly as you fumble to take out a bottle of water from the package. His heart drops in his chest because he knows you’re nervous and worried. You shouldn’t be, he wants to tell you, he’s fine, he, as Spider-Man, is fine. He, as Park Jimin, is not fine, he’s so fucking madly in love with you and he doesn’t even know how to fucking deal with it anymore. He tries to spend more time with you as Jimin, tries to spend more time with you as Spider-Man and it still doesn’t feel like enough. He’s so fucking selfish and he just wants you all to himself as much as fucking possible.  
  
“You okay?” Jimin asks, low and almost like a whisper. He doesn’t want to talk to you like Spider-Man anymore, he’s not him, he’s Jimin and that’s how he wants you to see him. You nod, lips pursed tight, _‘i was just, worried about you is all.’_ “Hey, hey look at me,” and he points towards his leg. The stitched hole in his leg is noticeable small, the bruising around it has subsided by a million. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”  
  
You nod again before walking over to him and throwing a water bottle at his chest. He huffs out on the impact. He’s about to protest, but —  
  
“You can’t be doing that to me!” you shout at him. Oh, no, no no, you might cry and he doesn’t know if he can handle that, he won’t be able to stop himself from taking off the mask, even though he knows that won’t solve anything. “You walk into my apartment with a bloody leg! Are you crazy? You might as well toss me off the side of a building! That would be less terrifying than you limping your way here!”  
  
“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, before he leans closer to you, “I needed to see you is all.”  
  
You whack his chest, once, twice and you’re about to do it again, he sees you reel back for another one. He catches your wrist before you can make contact with him and he keeps you still. He really can’t stop staring at you and fuck, he wishes he didn’t have the stupid mask on. Jimin wants to see you with his eyes, not through the lenses of his mask. He doesn’t know if he’s pulling you closer to him or if you’re getting closer to him on your own. He can’t stop himself again, _control yourself, control yourself._ No, he can’t, he needs you that’s all he wants right now.  
  
There’s no noise happening between you two, everything’s so quiet in your apartment and even the outside, everything is just so quiet. Jimin doesn’t know if it’s because all of his attention is on you. He feels your knee rest between his legs, and you slip your wrist from his hold. He doesn’t know what’s in that head of yours, but he does, or maybe it’s his own hope he latches onto. He really needs you closer, he’s not thinking straight, At this moment, he doesn’t want to be Spider-Man, he wants to be Jimin.  
  
Your hands reach forward, and he feels your small fingers along the hem of his mask and he jerks at the feeling. You pull up the mask before a muffled, _‘wait,’_ slips out of his mouth. He had control of it last time. He pulled his mask up just enough, but what if you just take it off? Yes, he wants to be Jimin, yes, he doesn’t want to hide from you anymore, but he’s not ready and you aren’t ready. But you sigh slowly, _‘I know,’_ and he feels you peel up the mask off his chin. His heart is so loud in his ears, and his hands shake as they find purchase on your hips.  
  
Cool air hits his lips for not even long until you press your lips against his. And you’re so soft, lips so soft, more than he remembered, or maybe he just really needed another reminder. You suck on his bottom lip softly, like you’re almost too careful with the movement. He pulls you in more, your legs swing on the sides of his leg and he hisses against your lips because you lightly sit on his healing wound. You flinch up, lips parted away from his and he tries to chase your lips. _‘Sorry, sorry,’_ you pant, and Jimin shakes his head, kissing your lips again and again, _‘don’t worry about it,’_ he says between kisses.  
  
The pain is the least of his concern, he doesn’t care, it doesn’t hurt as much. He feels so good with your lips pressed against his again, with his hands on your hips, with you sitting in his lap, with your weight pressed down onto him, everything feels so unbelievably good. This all feels so overdue for him, he knew he should have done it when he first met you, freshmen year in college when you two struggled with the introduction into biology course. He should have done it when you two would celebrate with massive amounts of alcohol after every midterm. He should have kissed you so many more times before the other night, before right now. He should be kissing you as Jimin, you should be kissing him when he’s Jimin.  
  
Everything is moving to slow for him, how his lips move with yours and how you’re even hesitant to fully sit down on him, it’s all too slow and careful, but he doesn’t have the courage to speed it up. He needs you closer, and he’s so desperate to feel more of you and he lifts his hips up as he pulls you down onto him. He absolutely can’t stop the groan that’s muffled between your lips, because god, that feels good.  
  
Maybe something snaps in you, he really doesn’t know but you’re starting to get heated as the kiss progresses. Your sucks are a bit harder on his lips. He takes that opportunity to glide his tongue against your lower lip and the whine that comes out of you makes his mouth water. His hips act on their own and he grinds up to meet your core and he’s dizzy with pleasure. His suit’s so tight around him, his cock strains against the material of it and he hasn’t noticed until now how fucking rough the material is.  
  
He’s so lost with the friction of you grinding down on him, he hisses against your lips something close to, _‘keep going, keep going.’_ He doesn’t realize that the tip of his nose brushes against your skin, or that your hands slip under his mask and brush through his strands of sweat-slicked hair. Oh god, your lips just feel so amazing, he definitely should have done this a long _long_ time ago. He presses your chest flush against him and there’s a small amount of pain coming from his still healing wound and he doesn’t even bother to wince or anything.  
  
He guides your hips more and more onto him, and his cock is so hard under you, his fingers dig into your hip bones and you whine above him. He trails sloppy kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. This is dangerous, this is very very dangerous because his mask slips more and more up his face. But fuck he wants to make this moment last, he wants you close to him, he’s being a complete idiot —  
  
His hand flies up to his face and his mask is much higher than it was originally and he tries to pull it back down. He’s not Jimin, he’s not your best friend, you don’t know _him,_ he’s Spider-Man. You’re above him, hips grinding down onto his and it feels so fucking good but he shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be doing this. The little noises you’re making above him sound so divine, and he’s just so lost in the taste of your lips. That coconut flavored chapstick you like wearing is all he can smell and taste and how your tongue slides against his bottom lip. He shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels so —  
  
“Jimin?” he hears you mutter, lips have gone from his and his breath rushes back into him. “_Jimin?_”  
  
And your voice is more concerned than it was before, and that makes his eyes snap open. _Fuck,_ _oh fuck,_ his mask, his fucking mask. His hands fly up to his face and his mask is hanging onto just the corner of his head. His sights settle on you, half blurred and half seeing you with no lens. You stumble off his lap and he doesn’t know — what? How did this happen? How did he let himself get so careless?  
  
“Y/N, wait,” he rushes out, trying hard to catch his breath because this isn’t happening. This _can’t_ be happening, he’s in some weird nightmare. Tears well up in your eyes, and no no, no, this really can’t be happening. He takes off his mask, “Y/N, hang on a second.”  
  
“What are you — how are you — w-what —“ you stutter over your words and it looks like you’re trying to search for answers that he can’t provide you because he’s such an idiot. He shouldn’t have gotten close to you like this. _This _should haven’t happened. He should have gone to headquarters as Taehyung said.  
  
“Wait, Y/N, please let me explain —“ How does he start this? How does he tell you _everything?_ How does he tell you the reason why he just made out with you as Spider-Man? How does he make an excuse for himself? How does he hide from all this?  
  
“Get out,” you hiccup out. What? No, no no, no, please don’t do this to him. Please just let him explain. His heart sinks down into his chest. The pain he felt from being electrocuted by Electro? That’s nothing. The pain in his leg, it’s gone, forgotten. _‘Please,’_ is all that can come out of him. “Get out, Jimin.”  
  
◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦   
  
What happened to you? It’s like you just have stopped caring about everything around you just because you can’t sort out your feelings. You can’t make sense of any of them. You want to be mad at Spider-Man, at Jimin, but you can’t. Like always, you can’t be mad at Jimin. But what are you _feeling?_ Is this anger towards him? Maybe towards yourself.  
  
It’s been a week since what happened. You’ve avoided Jimin completely. You haven’t gone to class all week and you’re so thankful that your professors fell for you _‘I have the flu,’_ excuse. Even if he did go to class for once, you just couldn’t face him. Somehow you feel embarrassed like you’re the punchline in some joke. You’re crushed. You can’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. Not seeing Jimin, however, hasn’t stopped him from messaging you. It crushes you to see  ** _Chim Chim_ ** flash across your phone.  
  
You don’t know how to settle your feelings anymore and they’re eating away at you as the days go on. You love Jimin, you’ve known for so long that you’ve loved him. Kissing him as Spider-Man crushed you because it felt right but it didn’t. Now you understand why and that just can’t get out of your head. Last week, when he was at your apartment, you couldn’t stop yourself. You shouldn’t have done it because he_ wasn’t_ Jimin, but you needed to do it. You love Jimin. It hurt to see him, it hurt to know that he was behind the mask.  
  
He hid behind that mask never telling you anything when he could have. Did he even work for Stark Industries? Or was all that just a lie, because he was really just swinging around as Spider-Man. Is that why it felt so familiar to be around him when he was Spider-Man? Why he just smelled like him, why his laugh sounded like his? God, everything is all making sense and it hurts. Any attraction you had for Spider-Man was because he was Jimin and you’re just so angry at yourself, at him.  
  
You don’t know how, or when you even reached for your phone or when you decided to dial  ** _Chim Chim_ ** but you just don’t have time to think about your actions because —  
  
“Y/N?” his voices comes through the receiver and he sounds labored? Is he running? You almost slap your palm against your face, no, he’s just probably busy, he’s Spider-Man. _‘What time is it?’_ you ask, it just slips out, you don’t really mean to ask it out loud. “Uhm, I don’t — I’m not — Sometime after nine maybe? What’s going on?”  
  
“I need to see you,” you tell him, and everything goes quiet. “We need to talk.”  
  
The call ends after that, with Jimin agreeing in a soft voice, _‘I just gotta take care of somethin’,’_ he tells you. Of course, he’s Spider-Man, you can’t blame him. You can’t whine and complain about it, and you’re not bothered by it. You know you can’t take him away from that life. He’s a part of it, he’s a superhero, he keeps the city safe. You just sink in your couch with a heavy sigh. Is this weird? Do you fit in his life? Does he even want you to fit into his life? There’s a reason why he didn’t tell you right? _No,_ no you can’t jump to conclusions right now — this is why you asked him to come here. You need answers.  
  
And there’s a soft knock on the door of your balcony and your heart skyrockets into your chest. You lift yourself up from the couch, slowly, each step that you take closer to the door, you just feel your nerves tickle up your skin. He’s there, in your balcony — it’s _Jimin_ now, not _Spider-Man._ You open the door, and he’s there, he’s here, he’s right in front of you. Your sighs land on deep red, accent blue and black details of his suit, mask completely covering his face — but you can just imagine his face beneath it.  
  
“Hey,” you manage to say, voice barely above a whisper. His head is hung like he’s afraid to look you in the eyes, and, _‘hey,’_ he whispers back.  
  
You’re so stupid, you’re so incredibly clueless that you did not notice his voice before. It’s so obvious, how he laces his enunciation softly, how his breath carries out with the word — yes, it’s so _Jimin_. You just hold the door open for him more, stepping to the side as he drags his feet through the threshold. He’s the same, the same he’s always been. His height is the same and maybe, you’re just now noticing how broad Jimin really is. As soon as you close the door behind him, everything is quiet. The world is on mute, the road below you is so quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning is off.  
  
It’s just you and Jimin.  
  
You look up at him, his eyes are on you, his lenses cast in your direction. How is it real? How is he real? This just happens in the comics right? Superhero in your apartment — no this just can’t be real. He’s not just a superhero anymore, he’s your best friend. That’s your best friend behind the mask, underneath the suit. It’s still him, _it’s still him,_ you have to remind yourself.  
  
“Don’t really needa ask whatcha wanna talk ‘bout, do I?” he laughs nervously, shoulders rising up in his forced laugh. It’s strange to hear him with the accent, you know it’s him now.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” you breathe, well you’re not even breathing, you’ve just been holding your breath this entire time. You slump back onto your couch, whispering out, “I just don’t know where to start.”  
  
“Guess it’s a lot, huh?” he mutters, hand rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
“What happened?” you blurt out, and he looks over at you, lenses moving in confusion. “I mean — how did it happen? How did you _become_ Spider-Man or when?”  
  
“It’s been years, I was fifteen. God, there were so many things I wanted to do, I wanted to join all the sports teams, I just felt so invincible, and in a way, I guess I was. But I couldn’t before, so I couldn’t do it after,” he rambles softly, “It was a spider — some field trip to Oscorp, and well,” he gestures to himself a _bite_ and he just lets his hands drop back to his sides.  
  
“Is that why you wanted to work for them?” you ask.  
  
Jimin tilts his head to the side, humming in thought, “I guess, but I really did like all that they were doing. But,” he sighs, “then Taehyung came along and I started working for Stark Industries.”  
  
You furrowed your brows tightly at him, “So do you actually _work_ for Stark Industries or do you work _with_ Iron Man because you’re an Avenger?”  
  
“Oh,” is all that comes out of him along with a string of other noises. You can feel the rise of anger inside you, he lied to you. But you can’t be angry because he _had_ to lie to you but he also didn’t. You’re in this battle with yourself and the longer he takes to respond the more and more you’re letting your thoughts go wild. He rasps, “Both, actually — I guess. Taehyung pays me but I guess he pays me because I’m an Avenger and because I’m a _broke college student._”  
  
And somehow that answer just isn’t making you feel better. You’re just not satisfied with it, he could have just told you, right? Was he worried about your reaction? Or what?  
  
“Why couldn’t you just tell me, Jimin?” you question, voice shaking as you ask. _‘It just wasn’t that easy,’ _he answers, and that crushes you because “Did you not trust me with your secret?”  
  
“What? No, no no no,” he rushes out, face going into his palms with a frustrated groan rumbling in his throat. “That’s not it. I was just afraid, I’ve never told anyone so I wouldn’t even know how to come about saying it.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to tell me that you were ditching me because you have a city to save?” you jab at him. _‘That sounds kinda silly, don’t it?’_ he rasps, amused. “But it’s the truth isn’t it?”  
  
“I was afraid that if I told you something would happen to you,” he admits. “I have some enemies in the city, Y/N, what if they found out who you were —“  
  
“But you don’t have a problem seeing me like this,” you gesture towards him, towards his suit. He curses softly under his breath and, “You don’t think it’d be more dangerous coming to see me, talk to me, come to my apartment when you’re _Spider-Man?_”  
  
“It’s because I’m an idiot!” Jimin says in such a rushed voice, frustration laced in every word as he raises his voice. “I was going crazy that I just couldn’t hang out with you as me, and I just wasn’t thinking. I wanted to see you, so I couldn’t stop myself from seeing you like this —“  
  
Your heart is doing flips in your chest, and you can’t contain whatever is rushing through your body and you push yourself off the couch. _‘I’m just an idiot, Y/N, I just wasn’t thinking,’_ Jimin whispers and you can hear the frustration he’s having with himself. You know him too well, you know this voice. And you speak up, you say something but your voice fails you completely, you don’t know how you even said it or if you even said it, until Jimin asks, _‘what?’_  
  
“Take off the mask, please,” you speak up, voice a little more clear but still shaky.  
  
He doesn’t ask for any clarification, he doesn’t say anything else. Everything goes back to being quiet again, there’s just your breathing and his. His hands come up to the top of his head and his finger pinch up the mask. Slowly and slowly, it comes up from his face and he lets the mask fall to the floor. You hold your breath, _he_ is there, it is Jimin. You’ve seen him already without the mask on, and seeing it now still is something you weren’t prepared for. His eyes are on you, the same eyes that you’ve loved, that you _love._ You really just aren’t breathing —  
  
You really can’t say anything, there are no words that you can say. It’s like a pull that’s making you walk your way to him. His eyes don’t leave you, they follow your every move. You reach out towards him, the material tickles your fingertips as you run them along the black detail web. You feel his chest rise as he breathes and it’s so calming, it’s _him,_ remind yourself of that — _this_ is _Jimin_. And you look at him, the strands of his hair falling onto his face, sweat-slicked from wearing the mask.  
  
“This is _you,_” you whisper, you say it more idly to yourself. Your hands move up his chest, up his neck — he shutters at the feeling but he still doesn’t stop you — and your hands cup the sides of his face. Your heart jumps in your chest. “You’re still _you._”   
  
His hands trace up your sides and rest on your waist. He leans forward, forehead against yours and whispers, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m just an idiot in love.”  
  
This is all you wanted, he’s all you wanted. You could feel this overwhelming emotion rush up in your throat and you’re so unsure how you should continue. All you know is that you just need him, you want him. You snort just to say, “And I’m another idiot in love.”  
  
“How ‘bout ya close yer eyes for me,” he tells you and heat fills up your cheeks. There’s the playful tone in his voice, the smirk stretching his lips gives it away. You know what’s coming, you know what he’s planning. He laughs, and your eyes just flicker to his lips and they can’t look away. “Promise I won’t toss ya.”  
  
Yeah, you definitely know what he’s planning. Still, you close your eyes for him, as he said and you wait again. _Six, seven, eight,_ the seconds’ count and his fingers squeeze your sides, he pulls you closer to him. _Soft,_ there’s that feeling again but it feels better this time — a million times better. There’s something deeper to his lips than last time, or the first time. Maybe, because, it’s Jimin now, you know it’s him now and this is how it should be. His lips fit so perfectly against yours. Your hands slip up to tangle in his strands. You tug on his hair just lightly out of instinct when his tongue traces your lower lip, and you feel the vibration of his groan on your lips.  
  
You feel like you’re floating yet again, lightheaded, like you’re in the clouds when his tongue glides along yours and that small action makes you squeak, jerk forward. He pulls away from you, just enough and you almost chase his lips because you need to keep feeling them.  
  
“What did you say the first time?_ ‘Slow down, tiger,’_ was it?” Jimin recalls, voice hoarse and you mumble for him to shut up and you try leaning forward again but he’s not letting you — you pout, almost whining, ‘don’t stop this now.’  
  
You tug at his skin-tight suit as much as you’re able, muttering out,_ ‘off, off.’_ Jimin’s hand comes up to his chest, hitting the spider in the middle and it’s like his suit deflates off him, loosening around his body. You grab the neckline of the suit, peeling it down off his shoulders, down his chest and you see the raised scar tissue on his chest, several scars align is chest, his ribs, his abdomen and you suck in a sharp breath. You let the suit fall around him, while he kicks off the boots of the suit. His compression shorts tight along his thighs and your eyes flicker to the scar on the side of his thigh, it’s a scar — you remember the wound so visible, so bloody and dripping and open. Your heart sinks in your chest and his fingers come up to your chin.  
  
“Hey, hey,” he says softly, you hiccup almost because how much has he been through? You recall briefly the time you saw his bloody knuckles and bruised face. This is what he does — “I’m fine, okay? You ain’t gotta worry about me.”  
  
You snort at the slip in his accent, you love it, it’s endearing. But, “You know I still will.”  
  
Jimin’s hands cup your face and bring you back to him. Soft lips on you and he sucks your bottom lip between his, teeth gnaw down gently and you really don’t know where you are anymore. His hands down to your waist again and slip underneath your shirt, warm on your skin. You shiver at the contact because it’s no longer the pads of his gloves, it’s his hands on you now. You relish at the feeling. He tugs at your shirt, lifting it up off you and tossing it to the side. Heat spreads throughout you —  
  
He grabs your wrist and he pulls you with him towards your bedroom. You hear your heart in your ears so loud. How are you nervous, this is what you want, and you’re so nervous or maybe it’s just the anticipation or both. You’re pulling in shaky breaths. He plops down on your bed and he pulls you into him, pulls you into his lap. You want to hide your face into his neck, into his chest, anywhere because his lips are so intensely on you.  
  
“You okay with this?” he asks you, breath warm against your skin and _‘yes, yes, yes,’ _because you don’t want him to stop, you don’t want this to stop. And he leans forward to press his lips against the valley of your breasts, and his lips are so warm. He travels up to your neck, sucking lightly where your neck and shoulder meet and you sigh. “No slowin’ down now?”  
  
And you just shake your head, no no, you don’t want to slow down. Jimin hums against your, fingers squeeze your waist. His lips travel up your jaw, in delicate kisses until he reaches your lips. His kisses are meticulous against yours, careful with each press, with each slide of his tongue like he’s truly trying to memorize everything about your lips. And it’s like each breathe you take between kisses, he’s greedily taking them up. It feels good, this is how it should be, it just feels so _right._

His hands snake up your sides, ghosting lightly on your skin and the feeling makes goosebumps rise all over you. Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, and the scent of his shampoo reaches your nose and you love it. You’ve long since stopped thinking about anything, what the consequences _might _be or if they exist because nothing really matters to you but you and Jimin. All of this is so past due, all those nights you two spent together, this should have happened then.

You should have confessed your feelings to him when you asked him out to dinner in the city. Or the small bursts of courage you’d get when you two would get drunk after every exam. Even when you knew he wasn’t as drunk as you, and you knew your slurred speech was so embarrassing, you should have confessed then. Or when he came to visit you in the hospital after you accident. You understand now the pain he must have been going through because he blamed Spider-Man, blamed _himself, _for what happened to you. You should have told him you loved him then.

But there was always fear, you were afraid he would reject you. You imagined he appreciated your friendship more and he wouldn’t want anything more. You didn’t want to risk losing him, you preferred keeping him close as your friend than losing him. You’re afraid that perhaps now it’s not real. Everything might be not be real and that he’ll disappear if you open your eyes, he’ll go back to being distant. You settle all your weight on his lap, and you pull yourself close into the kiss because you don’t want him to disappear — you want this to be real. Even when his mouth trails down to your jawline, down to your neck, lips suctioning around your pulse, and one of his hands coming up to cup your breast, you still so afraid —

“Don’t leave,” you mumble so unconsciously, and you hear the soft pop of his lips on your skin, “Don’t disappear on me, _please._”

“Hey,” you hear Jimin whisper, voice barely inaudible, and his hands come up to your face and you squeeze your eyes tighter. “Hey, hey, look at me.” and you shake your head, because he’ll be gone, _‘what if you’re not here?’_

You don’t know what happens next, and you don’t dare open your eyes now because you don’t feel Jimin anymore. His warmth is gone and your back is pressed up against the mattress. And his lips are on your face, kissing your forehead, cheeks, lips, jawline — littering all over you. You stutter over your breaths as he keeps going lower. His lips catch your nipple between them, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub. You gasp lightly, tongue so warm on your breast and there’s the pop of his lips. _‘I’m here, I’m here,’ _he tells you, syllables enunciated purposefully. You gnaw down on your bottom lip when his mouth returns to your nipple and _‘I’m not going anywhere,’ _he mutters against you, breath cooling the wet spot on your breast.

Jimin sighs softly, “I’m staying here — with you,” and his lips press just below your breasts, drawing up red to the surface. His hand slips under the waistband of your pajama bottoms and panties, and heat spreads to the back of your neck. Lips down your navel, until they linger on your lower stomach, tongue leaving behind a trail of saliva and your head is floating. Then his fingers slide against your clit, and you pant out — did you just notice how wet you were? And he makes a noise of approval.

It takes take him long to pull your bottoms off you, and you’re left in front of him, completely exposed with nothing to cover yourself. Your thighs twitch, feeling the tickle of his hair between them and you swear your heart is about to burst out of your chest and your face flushes. He runs his tongue along your inner thighs, sloppily laying kisses. Teeth nibble down on your skin and you whimper at the feeling, so dizzy from the feeling and —

“Look at me, Y/N,” he tells you, lips on the juncture where your thigh and hip meet. His fingers circles around your clit, and you hiccup, fingers bunching up the sheets underneath you. But his mouth is still not on you, not where you want him anyways, _‘Jimin, Jimin,’ _you plead. He slides his fingers passed your folds and _‘ohhh, fuck,’ _but then his fingers don’t even move. “Come on, Y/N, come on. Open your eyes, look at me.”

Jimin wiggles his fingers inside you, his lips are just above your clit and when you try and move your hips closer to his mouth, he tsks at you. You need him, you need his tongue on you, on your clit, licking you up clean. Your hands finally purchase in his hair — _he’s here. _And you open your eyes, and you see nothing but your dark room and you look down and _he’s here. _His mouth hovers above your slick core and he’s just so close to you. Your breath gets caught somewhere in the middle of your throat because his eyes are on yours. And a smirk pulls on the corners of his full lips and, _‘atta girl,’ _he hums.

A satisfied sigh escapes you lips, head tilted back as he pulls the noise out of you because his tongue swirls around your clit. _Oh fuck, _his tongue flattens, licking upward on you and you curse out to the ceiling above you. His saliva spreads onto your folds the more and more he licks you and it’s such a delicious mix of your juices and his saliva. The tip of his tongue flicks your clit and your back arches from the sheets beneath you, moan after moan strung with curses pass your lips, _‘mmmff fuck, fuck, Jimin.’_

Jimin moves his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out at such an agonizingly slow pace. His finger tips brush against your walls. The ministrations of his fingers and tongue makes you forget what’s up and down and you really don’t know anything anymore, all you know is Jimin. You’re just so lost in _him, him, him._

He curls his fingers inside you and your hands on reflex, tug at his locks and his voice vibrates your core, _‘there?’ _he asks and all you can do is chant out, _‘yes, yes, yes.’ _He feels so good, and he pecks your pussy, one, two kisses, and then his tongue flattens against you. You’re so wet, you hear the echo of your slicked pussy all throughout your room. His lips suck around your clit, tongue lapping up your juices and your thighs squeeze around his head, hips circling against his mouth. He groans, sound muffled on your core and your chest heaves trying to pull in more air.

Your pants are shaky, with the knot in the pit of your stomach getting harder to ignore. You try to mutter out something under your breath but it’s so incoherent and just a string of whines — and then nothing, the stimulation is gone, vanished, his warm mouth is no longer on you and his fingers have pulled out. You snap your eyes open, ready to protest like a brat but you stop yourself. He crawls up your body, slowly like a predator, like a spider, and there’s a lump in your throat that’s getting hard to swallow and you can’t look away from him. You catch sight of the sheen on his lips, laden with your juices and a flush rises to your cheeks and his lips are on yours, fitting on yours and you can absolutely taste yourself on him.

“I need to be inside you,” he whispers, and it’s like he’s asking you permission. And he pecks your lips again, and again, and, “Fuck, please, I need to be inside you,” and he pulls away from you just enough and he fingers slip under his compression shorts, pulling them down his thighs. Your eyes flicker down to follow the movement. His cock is so hard in his compression shorts and you see how tight they are against him. It springs up when the short are off him, and it slaps against his lower stomach. “You see how hard ya got me? I’m such a loser and I’m so weak for you, Y/N.”

You beg, completely shamelessly, plead to him, _‘please, please, please,’ _and that’s all he needs. You shiver when his tip aligns your entrance and not another breath passes once he pushes himself into you. _‘Oooh, Jimin,’ _you whine, because his cock is inside you, stretching you out so deliciously. You can’t even be bothered to wince at the small sting of pain from him stretching you because it just feels so _good. _And with one final jerk of his hips, and curse out softly because he’s fully inside you.

“_Fuck, _ohhh, fuck, you’re so warm, you feel good,” he growls, the rumble of his voice bounces against your headboard. His pulls out slowly, just so his tip is inside you and he thrusts back in slowly and the friction has you drool, legs wrapping around his waist — “I won’t last long, Y/N. You feel just so fuckin’ good, and oh fuck I’m so weak.”

“Neither will I,” you pant, voice barely steady, “Please just move, please move, don’t stop.”

He complies with your words because really, he can’t stop himself, he can’t control himself anymore — not that control existed. You throw you head back because his cock is brushing against that spot and you’re lost in the pleasure. Fuck his cock feel so good, so warm, so hard inside you and it’s so snug against your walls, it feels _right. _The snap of his hips against yours has you seeing stars, nails clawing down his back and he hisses at the feeling. He leans forward, eyes on you the entire time, forehead on yours, and nothing around you exists.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he grunts, with a whimper at the end of you name and he rolls his hips. Oh, _oh, _what did he just say? Sorry, for what? You can’t make sense because of the roll of his hips and his cock and — “I promise I’ll take you out, a day just for you and me. No more flaking this time.”

You can’t find your voice to say _it’s okay, _it’s really okay, and your heart feels heavy inside you because you just can’t tell him right now it’s okay. You aren’t mad, you aren’t upset, you’ve forgiven him, you always have. You understand and you don’t want him to continue to making up for something that isn’t his fault anymore. All you can manage is a broken up _‘ohhh—kay,’ _and you squeeze your walls around his cock. He hisses out a curse at the feeling and his hips snap sharply into you, once, twice, and they keep going.

His hips feel amazing, his cock fits so perfectly inside you and all you can do is pull out his name in broken little segment. His thrusts are so deliberate, so careful like they’re studying every little noise, every little reaction of yours. And once his cock brushes up against that spot, and your breath hitches, he’s merciless — _‘there?’ _he hums and there’s a smirk dancing in his voice as he aims for that spot again, and _again. Oooh fuck, mmfff, _you can’t stop your moans anymore, and your jaw is left slack the more and more whines pour out of you. God, it’s such a beautiful sound to Jimin and it has his hips stuttering against yours and he lets his lips find purchase on your neck.

You’re sure now that all Jimin wants to do is keep you from breathing. You’ve lost your senses, all you can feel is Jimin, all you can hear is his hips slapping against yours, and you can smell is the soft hint of his cologne and shampoo and that’s all you want to know now, _Jimin, Jimin. _Somehow, he’s just not close enough and you just want him closer and closer to you. Your hands run up his back, his muscles twitch under the pad of your fingers and he stuffs his cock deeper inside you, and you claw your nails down his back. Your legs squeeze around his waist a little too painfully tight.

“Yes, _yes, yes_,” you moan and the knot in your stomach grows more and more and you’re squirming underneath him. You’re so fucking wet, and it’s so audible, echoing all throughout your room. “Close, J-Jimin, close, close.”

And you’re whining out and Jimin loves your voice, he wants you to keep going. And a heat has long since blossomed inside his chest. His fingers wrinkle your sheets because he has to keep himself grounded, he feels so light. His teeth clamp down onto your neck, the light taste of sheen of sweat on you mixes with his saliva. You’re perfect, and all his and he quickens up his pace inside you, your walls so warm around him, so wet and squeezing around him like you’re made for him —

“Will you cum on my cock for me?” Jimin asks, he looks up at your beautiful face, marveling at the pleasure across your face. His hand snakes between your bodies and his fingers graze against your clit and your reaction is explosive. _‘Ohhhh fuck,’ _you curse out because fuck it feels good, back arching up, chest flush against his. You’re drooling at the feeling and your walls squeeze around his cock and, “Cum on me, Y/N.”

You feel yourself closer and closer to the edge, everything is too much, and you’re getting overwhelmed by the pleasure. And with a lingering thrust into you, the tip of his cock right against that spot, you’re seeing a flash of white behind your eyelids. The walls of your pussy convulsing around his cock once you go over the edge and you’re chanting out his name like a mantra. You can’t even catch your breath between your small sobs while your orgasm takes a hold of your body and you feel the growing wetness underneath you as you cum.

And pace is relentless, and you whine at the sensitivity of his cock inside you as he tries to chase down his own release. With a few quick thrusts and a strangled moan leaves his lips. You feel warm as he fills you up, cum in hot streams inside you. And your walls can’t stop squeezing around him, milking his orgasm more and more.

It’s silent, the squelch of your pussy as his cock slows down now quiet beneath heavy pants. His eyes glitter in the low light of your room as he looks down at you, and you love Jimin. You feel so safe with him, so protected and you want to stay like this longer. You shudder when he slowly pulls out his cock from you, his cum seeping out of your entrance and you’re feel empty now, cold now, and you whine softly. His lips are on your face, cheeks, forehead, the tip of your nose, until he sucks on your lips —

“Can you do this?” Jimin asks softly, almost too quietly like he’s afraid to ask, or afraid of the answer. “Can you do this with me — be with me?”

You’re warm, and you almost ask him to repeat himself because it’s like you’ve imagined him asking this so many times and it’s real now. He’s here now, his cum is inside you, his cock was just inside you and you can still feel the stretch of him and he’s close to you, sweat mixed with yours. It’s _him _now, it’s just you and him and this is how it should be.

A drunk smile pulls the corners of your lips, “Are there any perks being _Jimin’s_ girlfriend?” you joke, and you hear the smile cracking in him, laugh bubbling up his throat and his face lights up.

He loves you, he absolutely definitely loves you and you’re his, and he’ll do everything in him to keep you safe and protected.


End file.
